


(Cocked and) Reloaded

by tristinai



Series: Bad Decisions [12]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ableism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erectile Dysfunction, Hitmen For Hire, Human AU, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Murder Husbands, Obsession, Psychological Trauma, References to Torture, Unhealthy Relationships, bottom!Gavin, mutilation of the French language, reed900, references to murder, rim jobs, self-blaming for abuse, top!Nines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23859262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristinai/pseuds/tristinai
Summary: Gavin said he’d rather die than live without Nines. What he never considered is that he may just have to live with him, for better or worse.Set immediately after the events of Ride And Die.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Series: Bad Decisions [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1280879
Comments: 102
Kudos: 226





	1. My Lucifer Is Lonely

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MechanicalBones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechanicalBones/gifts).



> Hello everyone! I wasn't quite sure if I had more in me but, well, here we go! For anyone who is curious about Gavin and Nines' life post Ride And Die, this is the fic for you. There will only be two parts. Truthfully, this is something I had outlined back in October (yes, THAT long ago) to be either the ending of Ride And Die or the series ending but it was kinda scrapped during the process of writing Ride And Die since I wasn't sure if it was the best way to end Bad Decisions. However, since many of you have been inquiring about Nines' 'parts', I decided to answer your questions definitively with fic. For everyone who has supported this series, thank you so much. All of you are incredibly lovely people <3.
> 
> Special thanks to [DeviantAlicee](https://deviantalicee.tumblr.com/) for providing some much needed feedback on this as I was really on the fence about posting it. You've been so incredibly helpful, I can never thank you enough <3
> 
> Please be sure to read all the tags if you wish to avoid any themes/content that may be triggering for you. Also, I totally stole the tag "Murder Husbands" from [Initium_vitae_et_mortis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/initium_vitae_et_mortis/pseuds/initium_vitae_et_mortis) and CB5600. I couldn't resist XD
> 
> A note before continuing: the opinions expressed by Gavin in regards to Europe/France are in no way shared by me. I just want to put that out there.
> 
> Enjoy :)

The road is quiet as Nines speeds down it, leaning his body forward to flatten his frame against the Ducati. Gavin has no choice but to press his chest firmly against Nines’ back, his gloved hands tightening around Nines’ waist. Even with his helmet, he can hear the roar of the engine as much as feel it vibrate beneath his thighs and he has to scoot forward to claim what little seat remains available, his ass all but thrust out on the edge. It’s fucking terrifying riding this goddamn death trap and Nines—speed junkie that he is—must sense Gavin’s fear because the asshole always seems to accelerate when Gavin’s two seconds away from having a heart attack. But Gavin would be lying if he denied it isn’t also giving him the kind of thrill that only Nines seems to match. With the Mediterranean sea to their left and the open road in front of them, Gavin knows that the risk of crashing is worth the high. Any risk he takes with Nines will _always_ be worth it.

Because that’s the promise he made three months ago, when he was dizzy off a date rape drug and his lungs were so full with carbon dioxide, he knew any breath could be his last: ride and die with him to the end, wherever that fucking end would be.

_I’m choosing you, now. I’ll fucking always choose you._

And Gavin intends to keep that promise. Even on nights like tonight when he’s pissed off at the asshole.

The bike begins to decelerate and Nines maneuvers it, turning sharply down a paved side road leading to their private villa. Nines had purchased it back in December as a gift for Gavin, a place for them to start their new life. Unlike the glamorous hotel suites they’d been living in while taking the odd job in Europe, the two-story home is a lot more austere and rustic, which surprised him, given Nines’ tastes. The best part is that it doesn’t make Gavin feel like he’s one of those rich assholes eating caviar all day, which Gavin imagines is what those pricks must do on the yachts he sees whenever he’s lounging on the balcony and smoking a cigarette. He tried that caviar shit once—never fucking again. Nines may roll his eyes at Gavin’s “unrefined palate” but Gavin doesn’t see why he needs to eat weird food as a goddamn class statement. Give him a burger and fries—goddamn fries, he swear if he hears one more asshole call them ‘chips’—and some ketchup. Fucking Europeans putting mayonnaise on shit that should NEVER have mayonnaise on it…

Nines slows and shuts the Ducati off. Almost as soon as the bike’s been parked, Gavin’s hopping off of it so fast, the shift in position gives him momentary vertigo. He sways a little on his feet, rips off his helmet to try and shake off the discomforting sensation. A hand reaches to steady him but the moment Nines touches him, Gavin remembers why he’s angry and shrugs it off. Ignoring Nines’ protests, Gavin storms towards their home.

“Are you _still_ sulking?”

Gavin rips his keys out of his jeans—the tight-as-fuck ones Nines made him wear for the fucking job—and rams them in the keyhole. He doesn’t answer Nines, doesn’t need to. He’s been seething since pulling the trigger.

“I was only toying with him,” Nines says, his playful tone grating on the last of Gavin’s nerves. It’s making it even more difficult to keep giving his boyfriend the silent treatment when all Gavin wants to do is shout at him for acting like what he did is no big deal. Nines tries to slip an arm around Gavin but Gavin’s forcing the door open and hastily goes inside. It at least puts the threshold between him and his partner, if only for a moment. “Darling...”

“Don’t you fucking ‘darling’ me!” Gavin snaps, spinning so fast on his heels, he’s seeing spots. It would disorient him, if his anger hasn’t been building for the better part of an hour. For Gavin, staying angry for an hour and saying _nothing_ is a new record. “We had a goddamn deal: kill the fucker and collect! What the fuck was _that_?”

“As I said, I was only toying with him so he would let his guard down,” Nines answers, not in the least bothered by Gavin’s anger. Gavin knows the prick well enough that when Nines is in a mood like this, he’ll either get snippy and condescending or bored. Maybe even all three, if Gavin keeps pushing. “I rather enjoy seeing the look on his face when he realized his death was inevitable. And you, darling, were spectacular.”

Nines looks so fucking pleased with himself, it makes Gavin want to throw something at him. Gavin, instead, settles for chucking his keys on the stand by the door, the loud clinking not nearly conveying how pissed he is. Kicking off his shoes, he sneers, “Sadistic prick,” and throws his leather jacket on the floor because he knows that will infuriate Nines more than anything.

See, there’s something to Nines’ neurosis that Gavin always had an inkling of but never experienced until he lived with the _real_ Nines: everything has a place. Whether it’s shoes, the order in which discs are stacked on the stand, or the way spices are organized on the spice rack. It’s not simply _enough_ that the items are where they should be; there is a very specific sequence in which everything exists in the Reed-Cain household.

Coats, for instance, are to be hung neatly in the closet and _never_ left on the floor.

“Gavin, your coat.”

The warning in Nines’ voice goes ignored by the ex-detective.

“Fucking put it away yourself.”

“There are _rules_ , darling.”

“Oh, so now we’re gonna have a fucking conversation about The Rules?” Gavin sneers. “We’re not just gonna go changing them in the middle of a fucking job?”

“Gavin...”

But he’s not at all threatened by the hint of anger that’s left an edge in Nines’ tone. Sure, not shortly after they resettled in Europe, he may have spent that first month on egg shells, flinching when Nines raised his voice or stepping back when Nines approached him in a fit of rage. But the moment Nines detected Gavin’s fear, his eyes darting to the scars left on Gavin’s wrist from being so viciously handcuffed, the guilt would make Nines deflate and Gavin knew: no matter how pissed off he makes his lover, Nines will not lay a hand on him. Not again.

So that’s why Gavin falls back to their old patterns: scream everything they’ve done to piss the other off, say something out of line, and then storm away to stew in silence until someone cracks and gives a half-assed, not-quite-apology first.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

“Just fucking admit it: if I wasn’t there, you would have taken the fucking money!” Gavin shouts. The open space of the villa makes his voice sound even louder, fucking acoustics. Thankfully, they don’t have any nearby neighbors to bitch about these 3 AM shouting matches that are not exactly uncommon. It would be goddamn foreplay if...well... “Even knowing that piece of shit was peddling _children_ to fucking perverts, you’d have goddamn filled your pockets and walked away!”

“Yes,” Nines says, without hesitation. Fucking prick doesn’t even pretend he gives a shit. “I would have. Because a job is a _job_ and I did not get where I am by deciding I have the moral high ground when I _kill_ for a living.” And there it is, that fucking condescension. Gavin would be even more loaded if he started placing bets on how predictably Nines reacts to everything he accuses him of. “Perhaps, in all these jobs we have taken, you have become too self-righteous and forgotten that you are nothing more than a weapon being aimed at the highest bidder’s target. You would find more satisfaction in what you do if you learned to stop caring.”

“Why? So I can be more like _you_?”

“Would that be such a terrible thing?” Nines asks, the look on his face conveying his disapproval. Yeah, he’s _pissed._ “ _You_ wanted to be out there with me. _This_ is what you signed up for. We should ALWAYS consider a better offer, especially if the one paying is better connected! We cannot ignore an offer simply because—!”

“The deal was that we take the jobs _I_ choose!” Gavin shouts over him, storming up to Nines and getting right in his face. He’s not been this livid in a while, despite that they always seem to find something to bicker about. He can’t say what it is about tonight: maybe it’s the lack of sleep combined with three days of feeling that greasy fucker’s hands all over him that’s got him this worked up. Right now, all Gavin wants is to scrub himself clean but instead, he’s got to deal with this shit. “Off the fuckers _I_ pick! No exceptions!”

“ _Right._ We must always do what _YOU_ say!” Nines snaps sarcastically at him, using his height advantage to stare down Gavin. Fuck, does Gavin **hate** when Nines uses that tone. “My thoughts on _anything_ you decide seem to _never_ concern you! I am simply a dog you can give orders to, is that it?!”

_What?!_

Gavin’s taken aback by the accusation. For all of two seconds. Then, his expression darkens as he realizes this is exactly the sort of thing Nines likes to throw in his face when he’s manipulating Gavin into backing down. Stubborn fuck. “Real fucking mature, Nines! You really fucking thing I’d pull that same power move Kamski always fucking did?! For fuck’s sake, I can’t even get you to follow the fucking plan for more than five seconds without you showing up _inside_ the fucking club and scaring the shit outta the fucking target! What the fuck were you thinking?!”

“I don’t know, Gavin: maybe I was thinking you seem to _really_ be enjoying having that tête de nœud slobbering all over you!” Nines accuses. “ _That_ is dickhead, since I doubt you have bothered retaining _anything_ I have attempted to teach you!”

Gavin gapes at him, not believing that Nines would honestly think he enjoyed being around that slimy tet duh...whatever the fuck Nines said. With a scowl, he snaps back, “Then just fucking say ‘dickhead’! Fucking Christ, you really think I fucking liked having that asshole grope me all night?! Why the fuck would you think that?”

“You are not getting it from me so _obviously_ you have to get it from somewhere!” Nines snaps. “Without your precious Niles around, I suppose it was only a matter of time before you threw yourself at someone else!”

The words  _hurt_ , reminding Gavin of the one mistake he’s made in all this and the lasting wedge it’s driven between them. It doesn’t matter how many times Gavin’s said  _sorry_ , how Gavin’s given up  _everything—_ including Socks, who he can’t fucking think about without wanting to break down and sob for abandoning his fur baby—Nines is still holding this over him and every time he throws it back in Gavin’s face, Gavin’s chest aches anew with his regret.

Guilt flashes in Nines’ eyes but the damage is already done. Feeling angry tears well in his own, Gavin spins on his heels and retreats towards the stairs.

“Gavin—”

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

His tone cracks and he just hates that even when he wants to still be angry, all he hears is his own misery. He could stay and keep fighting but then he’ll also end up saying something just as cruel. Right now, all he wants is to put as much space between him and Nines as possible.

Thankfully, Nines doesn’t follow when Gavin slams the door to the bathroom. It doesn’t surprise Gavin. Both of them are stubborn and it could take anywhere from hours to a full day before they miss one another enough that  _someone_ reaches out that olive branch.

Fuck, it damn well better be Nines after what he fucking said.

Sniffling, Gavin runs the bath. The large bathtub could easily accommodate two people and it only makes Gavin more miserable as he thinks of the last few jobs and how it’s become a ritual for him and Nines to bathe together, as if scrubbing their skin clean cleansed them of the unsavory job they did. Gavin’s discomfort lay in violating the oath he’d taken as an officer back in the States. Sure, killing perps happens, especially if the fuckers open fire first. But Gavin’s never been one of those slimy cops to shoot first, ask questions later. If he can avoid firing his gun, he will.

Nines, on the other hand, doesn’t have that hesitation. He seemed to require bathing as a result of his own neurosis, like just being near a corpse physically dirtied him. If Gavin expects Nines to have remorse for the people they kill, he’ll be disappointed every time. But even Gavin’s starting to understand why Nines stopped giving a fuck, given the assholes they’ve collected on.

“I refuse to let you die,” Nines had whispered back in Cyberlife, his grip on Gavin tight to keep the detective from falling over. 

The memory hits Gavin like a violent wave, pulling him in the depths of his troubled thoughts.

Through his blurred vision, Gavin remembers watching Nines scan their surroundings frantically, the distress evident on his face. Swaying on his feet, Gavin had been ready to accept that this was the end, his lungs so full with CO2, he was about to pass out. It was only with Nines shouting, “This way!” and forcing Gavin along with him that Gavin survived.

He was ready to die. But Nines—stubborn fuck—just wouldn’t let him.

_Why the fuck did you bother?_ Gavin wonders, the haze of his own thoughts slipping as the present comes back into focus. He scrubs furiously at his skin, turning it red and raw. Tears cloud his vision and he tells himself it’s only from the abuse he’s putting his flesh through but he knows better.  _Why the fuck save me if you’re just gonna spend the rest of our lives pissed off at me?_

Dying would have been easier. When Gavin’s options had seemed limited to living without Nines or dying with him, the choice had been a no brainer. He never considered that ‘living’ was possible and that with it would come all the baggage of what they’ve inflicted against each other. ‘Living’ meant forgiving and while Gavin likes to think he’s done that, he still has these moments where he wants to stay angry over words uttered when Nines wasn’t in the right mind. Nines, meanwhile, always resorts to having those same arguments that nearly tore them apart whenever he’s backed into a corner.

“We leave everything behind: Detroit, Cyberlife, all of it,” Nines had told him, when he handed ‘Dexter Stevens’ his new passport. When Gavin glanced with trepidation at his new ID, Nines gave him a stern look. “ _All_ of it. We do not talk of who we were: Richard Stern and Gavin Reed no longer exist.”

Great fucking advice that neither of them have been following. Maybe this is just who they are now?

The thought leaves a sinking sense of dread in the pit of Gavin’s stomach.

A knock at the door pulls him from his gloomy thoughts. He’s ready to snap at Nines to  _fuck off_ but thinks better of it when he realizes that it will only make him feel worse. He’s so fucking tired and not just physically.

“It’s open,” he mumbles.

It should be too quiet for human ears. Nines, however, is not entirely human.

The door opens and Gavin doesn’t look up at his partner, instead, returning to scrubbing his skin off. No matter how much he fucking scrubs, he can’t get rid of the lingering feeling of that prick’s hands touching him…

“You will damage your skin if you keep scrubbing like that,” Nines says, softly.

Nines sets down the plate he’s carrying on the stand near the bath. Gavin’s eyes dart over and his mouth waters as he sees the assortment of canape Nines prepared. But he’s not about to give Nines the satisfaction of his attention and returns to his task, bristling as he feels his lover’s eyes on him. He flushes as Nines’ gaze lingers on his exposed flesh and it would have him deflate completely if he doesn’t remember how the prick accused him of  _wanting_ the asshole they killed touching him. The only asshole Gavin ever wants touching him is Nines but Nines seems more invested in blaming the entire world for his erectile dysfunction than having a fucking conversation about it. And Gavin...well, he’s reached the end of his patience.

“I can’t make it go away,” Gavin grumbles, viciously scraping the shower brush over his chest. “Fucking prick’s hands wouldn’t stop grabbing me. Shoulda off’d the fucker back at his penthouse.”

“Surrounded by all that security? You were right to coax him out into the open; it was the only way we could _both_ get close enough,” Nines says. But Gavin hears that tension in Nines’ voice, can sense it as Nines sits at the edge of the bath behind him and leans over to gently claim the brush. “May I?”

Gavin’s heart pounds. He could be a prick about it but it’s always hard to stay angry when Nines gets like this. Mostly, it just leaves him sad that it takes a fight for them to treat each other with anything other than the resentment they’ve let build beneath the surface.

Wordlessly, he hands it to Nines.

“I understand what you are feeling better than you think,” Nines continues, his voice barely audible above the jets. The thumping in Gavin’s chest grows to a dull thud as Nines softly uses the shower brush to trace across Gavin’s worn muscles. He’d much rather Nines replace it with his own hands and craves Nines’ touch in ways he’s too proud to confess. It would only prove that no matter what Nines says to him, Gavin will always give in, with or without an apology. “I would do the same every time Kamski sent me to...seduce a target.”

An audible pause, as if Nines is trying to think of how best to continue. His hand has stopped and Gavin silently wills it to keep going. Since the repairs and upgrades Nines received from Meditechniq, the prosthetic no longer peels away its synthetic layer whenever Nines gets too emotional. Gavin forgets what the engineer said specifically—something about adjusting the sensory feedback to keep Nines’ processor from ‘overworking’ or whatever—but whatever they did, it corrected the parts of Nines that Cyberlife couldn’t get working.

Well... _almost_ all of the parts.

“It was never about getting the blood off my hands,” Nines adds and Gavin’s skin heats as he feels the hint of Nines’ fingertips caressing his flesh. The sensation is gone almost as quickly as Nines carefully passes the brush along the reddened skin, “but the feeling of them _touching_ me, when I never wanted it.”

Nines stops. Gavin’s heart feels as if it’s stuck in his throat. He hates that as Nines confesses to the way he was used and abused, Gavin can only think of his own abuse at the hands of Cyberlife. How he spent months letting something not even  _human_ violate him…

“That is how you felt, is it not?” Nines asks, though it hardly sounds like a question. Not when both of them already know the answer. Gavin nods quietly, disgusted with himself that even as he sits in this tub and thinks of how much he’s _missed_ these sparing moments of intimacy he has with Nines, others have treated him like he was nothing more than an object for their amusement. How the fuck can he expect Nines to find him attractive when Gavin’s _let_ himself be used? “I...know and yet I let my jealousy get the better of me.”

Gavin sniffs.

Arms wrap around his shoulders, Nines hugging Gavin tightly from behind. He utters, “I’m sorry,” and it shouldn’t be enough—fuck, it should  _not_ when they’ve had these shitty arguments how many times now?—but it is. Gavin chokes back a sound, lifts a hand to grip at Nines’ right bicep because he needs to feel with his own hands that Nines is still there and they aren’t trapped underground at Cyberlife waiting for everything to collapse around them. They made it out— _they made it—_ so why is this so much fucking harder than  _dying_ ?

“I should not have let you do this,” Nines continues, his grip so firm, it’s become possessive. But Gavin needs it to be, needs to feel as if he’s not a disposable object. He needs to be reminded that Nines still wants him, as fucking pathetic as his insecurity makes him. “I was against it when Dubois suggested it. I told both of you there had to be another way—”

“—and then we wasted an entire fucking night fighting about it until I went behind your back and told Dubois we’d do it,” Gavin finishes. Nines relaxes his grip and Gavin can tell he doesn’t like being reminded of how they ended up with this job. But when Gavin learned of Rossi’s hand in the child trafficking game…

“You acted thoughtlessly.”

“And you fucking tried to back out of it out of spite!” Gavin sneers, pushing away from the tub’s edge. He shifts so he’s facing Nines, angry all over again. Round two. “That’s why you pulled that shit when he had him! Because you’re too fucking petty to let anything go!”

“I am allowed to be upset when you chose _without_ _me_ to go where I would be unable to follow!” Nines snaps back at him. “What if you had been exposed while you were with Rossi? I cannot protect you if I cannot even reach you!”

“I don’t need you goddamn babysitting me! For fuck’s sake, I’ve worked undercover before!”

“And look how _that_ turned out,” Nines accuses.

“Well, we’re stuck in fucking _France_ so I’d say it turned out really fucking shitty!”

The hurt on Nines’ face is brief but visceral enough to make Gavin’s insides twist. He shouldn’t have said that but given the fighting they’ve been doing all night, he was overdue for crossing the line.

“...Seeing as life with me is ‘really fucking shitty’, I will leave you to your bath in peace.”

The words feel like a slap across Gavin’s face, one that Gavin can’t argue is undeserved. Hearing what he implied repeated makes him feel shittier than Nines ever has.

Nines gets up and if Gavin was younger and more proud, he’d let Nines storm out. Fuck, the Gavin Reed of two years ago would have and did, back when they had first gotten together and every argument felt like a useless pissing contest. But even if Gavin’s pride still has its moments of getting in the way of what little sense he has, Gavin did this shit with Niles for six months and saw where  _that_ got them. He’s not about to fuck it up now that he has the real thing.

“Don’t go,” Gavin whispers, the plea desperate as his wet hand grasps Nines’ wrist. Nines glances down at Gavin’s hand and there’s indecision in his eyes that makes the dread in Gavin’s chest build as he fears he’s pushed too far this time.

After a moment, Nines wordlessly returns to the edge of the bathtub. But the air between them is wrought with tension that makes it hard to breathe and Gavin hates it. So, he does the only thing he can think to do: he tugs hard on Nines’ left wrist, catching the cyborg off guard.

“Gav—”

Nines makes a sound Gavin knows he’s not proud of as he’s pulled into the bath, water splashing off the sides. In his flailing, he manages to catch the opposite edge of the tub with his right hand but most of his torso is wet and water drips from the bangs that have fallen over his eyes. Nines glares murderously at Gavin, who is fighting to hide his amusement as he’s all but pulls Nines half way on top of him. Nines’ LED is now exposed and blinking rapidly.

“Only _you_ would find ruining my clothes this amusing,” Nines says, icily. “I’ll have you know that this is—”

“Prada? Gucci? Some other asshole who’s name I’m not gonna fucking learn?”

Nines looks even more insulted. “As if  _I_ would wear Gucci while out on a job.”

“Right. Wouldn’t want the pricks we kill to see you in shitty clothes,” Gavin says, with a haughty sniff. “Fucking go big or go home.”

The smirk on Nines’ lips clears some of the tension in the room, enough that Gavin no longer feels choked by it.

“Now, you are beginning to think like me,” Nines purrs and he slides the rest of the way into the bath. The extra weight causes more water to push over the sides as Nines pins Gavin to the nearest corner, a hungry look in his eyes. Fuck, does it stir this need in Gavin that’s gone more neglected than satisfied, his cheeks flushing as Nines nuzzles his neck. Teeth graze his flesh and the moan Gavin stifles in his throat seems to coax Nines into taking it a step farther as he begins to nip and suckle at the damp skin. Gavin snakes an arm around him and tugs the shirt Nines is wearing free from his pants. The silky fabric is even more slippery now that it’s soaked. A warning look from Nines makes Gavin abandon trying to remove it.

Oh. Right. 

He tries not to let it upset him as he holds Nines. A gentle sigh tickles his neck.

“I am sorry for what I said,” Nines says, quietly. He leans back, stares at Gavin with a sad look that makes the breath Gavin’s holding sit heavier in his lungs. One apology after a fight is hard enough to come by but two? Nines is really fucking trying tonight. “And for making you think that I would consider letting that imbecile live. After I saw how he touched you in the club...”

A dark look passes over Nines’ face, one Gavin’s seen before: it’s the same look he gets when Murphy is brought up, or Zlatko. The one that never fails to turn Gavin’s blood to ice. 

“Had we not promised Dubois to ‘make it quick’, there are a number of things I would have done to make him regret ever touching you,” Nines finishes.

As chilling as it is to know exactly what Nines is capable of and how all it takes is for the wrong person to piss him off to unleash that sadistic side of him, there’s also a part of Gavin that relishes knowing how far Nines will go for him. That he is the only one who can walk through the burning flames—and has—to stop Nines from giving into the worst of his impulses.

Call Gavin just as twisted but the more he’s exposed to the kinds of criminals making their wealth off the backs of the defenseless people they use, the less Gavin gives a shit about doing ‘the right thing’.

“Well, don’t let a contract stop you next time from giving those fuckers what they deserve,” Gavin whispers, his tone cold. His skin burns as the water laps against it but even as it sears from the abuse he’s put it through, he will never forget how dirty and helpless he felt when Rossi had him pinned against the counter the other night, his thick, sweaty hand sliding beneath Gavin’s shirt…

The response surprises Nines, whose eyes flick over Gavin’s face in that way it does when he’s studying someone. Scanning them. Gavin had promised himself he wouldn’t say anything because he knew that all it would take is a word from him and Nines would go from calculated killer to absolutely feral. “How far did he take it?”

Gavin looks away, guiltily. “It’s fucking over so what does it matter?”

But Nines doesn’t accept Gavin’s evasive answer. When his lips pull into a snarl moments later, that’s when Gavin can tell Nines  _knows._ “You should have said  _something!”_

“You would have stormed his flat and blown my cover.”

“It would have been worth teaching him not to touch what doesn’t belong to him,” Nines hisses, shaking with anger. “I would have fed him to his own mutts, piece by piece, perhaps starting with those filthy hands of his.”

The satisfying curl Gavin feels upon hearing Nines say that should be more disturbing than it is. But Gavin recalls the thrill he felt at putting a bullet through Rossi’s skull and that sense of justice for putting down one of those pieces of shit who is so used to using his money to get his way. How many assholes  _walked_ because of fancy lawyers and ‘insufficient evidence’ back when he was a detective? 

Killing them really is the only way to clean this shitty world up.

“He’s dead and we’re 50k richer,” Gavin says, wrapping both his arms around Nines. “World’s better off without that fucker.”

He tries to kiss Nines but Nines doesn’t let him, twisting his head away with a deep frown set on his face. Gavin tries not to show his disappointment: this is why he kept his silence. He knew it would only upset Nines.

“Look, next time an asshole gets too handsy, I’ll fucking say something, alright?”

But if he hopes that will pacify Nines, it doesn’t work.

“There is not going to be a ‘next time’,” Nines responds, his harsh tone leaving no room for argument. Still, Gavin tries but Nines adds, before Gavin can interrupt him, “I mean it, Gavin. We only took this job because _you_ promised Dubois we would do it and she is not someone we can afford to back out of a deal with. No more jobs that require only one of us go undercover, understood?”

“C’mon, Nines, it’s not like—”

“How would you feel if you had to witness someone groping me and all you could do was watch as I pretend to enjoy it?”

A memory springs to mind, one that always brings up his own jealous and possessive side.

Marcel.

“You choose our targets, that was what we decided,” Nines continues, reaching up to swipe aside a strand of Gavin’s damp hair that’s fallen out of place. The softness of the gesture makes Gavin deflate completely. “But I never again want us to be separated for a job. Will you at least promise me this?”

Gavin’s quiet as he considers what Nines is making him promise. It’s a concession. And given how Nines pretty much lets Gavin call all the shots since they started working together, it’s not as if he’s asking a lot.

“Sure.”

“Darling.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. How is it that he’s also started using that annoying Connor tone on Gavin’s fucking pet name?

“Fine, alright. I fucking promise.”

With a triumphant smirk, Nines leans in and kisses Gavin’s scar. But Gavin’s too damn selfish to let him get away with only that. He cants his head, finds Nines’ lips, pressing himself against his partner as he finally gets to kiss him. After all that goddamn arguing, the satisfaction and relief he feels when Nines kisses him back is enough to make Gavin feel like it isn’t the end of the fucking world. Maybe they will be alright.

A low growl echoes in Nines’ throat and he shifts them, pulling Gavin into his lap as he deepens the kiss. Gavin offers no resistance, submits because nothing’s ever felt as wonderful as feeling claimed by Nines, as knowing that Nines’ hands and lips can do as they please with him and Gavin will only keep whining for  _more._ With how much of this past week was spent at each other’s throats over this stupid undercover assignment, Gavin needs this more than ever.

When Nines pulls back, a sullen look in his eyes, that trepidation Gavin felt earlier returns with a vengeance. His fingers stop playing with the buttons of Nines’ shirt and he instead, devotes his attention back to him. 

“I am sorry that I have been unable to give you the kind of life you wanted,” Nines whispers. The regret is genuine and Gavin can tell that his callous words from earlier hurt Nines even worse than he lets on. A third apology: Nines really does feel like he’s fucked everything up.

_Fuck._

“You have given up so much and I...have failed to not make you regret that decision.”

Yeah. That right there is the reason why Gavin needs to get better at learning to keep his fucking mouth shut when he’s pissed off.

“I wish I knew how to be better at this,” Nines quietly admits, frowning as he drops his eyes from Gavin’s shocked gaze, “that I could—”

“Nines, _stop._ ”

Gavin tries to get Nines to look at him and when he doesn’t, Gavin tilts Nines’ face towards his. Releasing a small sigh, Gavin says, “Being with you is not...you know, ‘shitty’.”

“I believe you said, ‘really fucking shitty’.”

Gavin colors. “Yeah, uh...but, I was just being an asshole.”

“You do that quite a lot.”

“Look, will you just let me fucking apologize?” Gavin grumbles. There’s a small smile on Nines’ lips and Gavin would roll his eyes but he wants Nines to know he means what he’s saying. “I’m sorry. I, uh, I don’t think life with you is ‘really fucking shitty’. It’s...yeah, not what I expected but...”

His voice trails off. He doesn’t know how to broach any of the things they need to talk about. How can he when every time one of them tries, the other gets defensive and snaps back?

“...but I don’t fucking regret it,” Gavin adds. He weaves a hand through Nines’, lifting them out of the water. His throat is tight as he sees the hint of burned flesh peeking from Nines’ rolled up sleeve. “Not for one fucking second.”

Not after he almost lost Nines. He only remembers flashes of their escape, of Nines’ throwing himself against Gavin to shield him from burning debris. They almost didn’t make it as Nines used the last of his strength to force open the exit that led to a path connecting one of Cyberlife’s lower levels to the street. Gavin had been choking and gasping for air, his head foggy from lack of oxygen but he half-dragged, half-carried Nines the rest of the way, all the while mumbling threats at Nines.

“I-If y-you even th-think of dying on me now, I-I’m gonna f-f-fucking kill you,” Gavin gasped out. “F-Fucking a-a-asshole. F-F-Fucking save m-my ass a-and then m-m-make me c-carry you out, y-y-you g-g-goddamn p-princess.”

Nines wheezed and tried to say something back but—as Gavin later learned—his voice modulator had gone offline to conserve energy for his processor. It wasn’t until they were outside that Gavin could see the extent of Nines’ damage: the reopened wound on his right side, the burns on his left shoulder and arm, the bullet still lodged in his right…

Nines had looked up tiredly at Gavin, with a glazed look in his eyes, the hint of a smile on his lips. Gavin’s heart was pounding so wildly because he  _knew_ what that look meant. Nines had lost too much blood. 

“L-Lucy,” Gavin said, forcing Nines back to his feet. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he grunted in pain, using everything he had to carry Nines back to where Gavin saw his abandoned vehicle earlier. “W-We’re gonna g-go to L-Lucy. Sh-She’s g-g-gonna f-fix you.”

_She goddamn has to!_

The following two days as Gavin waited for Nines to wake up were the worst he’d ever experienced. Crying himself to sleep at Nines’ bedside, clutching his hand, promising, “If you make it outta this, I’m never fucking leaving you again” so many times, his throat was hoarse from begging. And that’s why, no matter the baggage they carry between them, Gavin knows that  _nothing_ Nines throws at him will ever be as shitty as Gavin felt when he believed there was a chance he’d have to carry on without Nines.

He’s lived without him before. He’s never doing that shit again.

“You say that without considering that there are specific… _things_ ,” Nines colors and not in the sort of way Gavin loves to tease him about. It’s always hard to get the fucker to feel bashful. But this is a look of complete humiliation and Gavin knows _exactly_ where this conversation’s going, “I am unable to do for you. That I may... _never_ be able to do for you again.”

Nines looks away. Gavin is stunned into silence.

They’re having it. They’re fucking having this talk.

Fuck.

... _FUCK!_

He needs to goddamn say something. But what the fuck do you say to your boyfriend when almost every fight has come back to him being pissed off at the fucking world because his goddamn dick stopped working?

There’s really only one thing Gavin can say.

“Babe,” he starts, squeezing Nines’ hand. Nines doesn’t squeeze back. “I don’t give a shit about that. The shit we do is good. Fuck, it’s great. I’m not fucking complaining.”

He means that. But it’s not entirely true. The few times they’ve been intimate, Nines reminded Gavin he doesn’t need a working dick to make Gavin writhe and beg and come undone completely. But whenever Gavin tried to return the favor, Nines snapped at him or pushed himself away from Gavin as if Nines was disgusted by the feeling of his partner’s hands on his flesh. It’s left Gavin confused: did he unknowingly cross a line? Does Nines even have sexual desires anymore? Is Nines no longer attracted to him?

Would be great if the asshole would actually say  _something._

“Perhaps not _yet_ ,” Nines says, “but some day, you will realize that what I have to offer you is not enough.”

Nines releases Gavin’s hand, his eyes drawn to the bubbles in the bath. It’s painted on his face, even if he hasn’t stated it: he’s afraid Gavin’s gonna leave him. Of all the things that would make Gavin leave, a dick that doesn’t work is the one thing Nines thinks will push Gavin away for good.

Fucking Christ.

“I’m not gonna leave because your dick stopped working.”

“Gavin.”

Nines’ eyes dart to Gavin’s, a warning in his voice. But Gavin’s so sick of dancing around the issue, being ‘nice’ about it. He’s stating how it is.

“No, Nines, we’re talking about this. And you fucking know how much I hate talking about shit,” Gavin says. “But someone’s gotta say it. And, you know, I’m kinda pissed you’d think I’m fucking shallow enough to care whether I’m getting dick or not.”

Nines glances away, his cheeks heating with embarrassment. Somewhat petulantly, he asks, “What is to stop you from changing your mind later?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake: _You_ are enough for me, Nines,” Gavin insists. He makes Nines look at him, hating that he sees doubt on Nines’ face. “More than fucking enough.”

There’s still hesitation in the way Nines returns his gaze and for a moment, Gavin thinks Nines will say something. When he doesn’t, Gavin continues. “Fuck, I don’t care if we just take the money from this last job, retire, and waste every fucking day watching shitty reality TV and Marvel movies on the couch. You’re the only person I’d want to fucking waste my life with.”

...that definitely sounded a lot nicer in his head. Fuck, is Gavin shit with words. 

“That is, perhaps, the least eloquent way you could have stated that,” Nines says, though Gavin’s relieved to see there’s a small smirk on his lips. “And while I appreciate your effort, I should point out only _you_ would find enjoyment in wasting our retirement watching superhero movies.”

“I fucking try and say something nice and you become a goddamn critic.”

“I have standards, darling: you know this.”

Arrogant prick.

But even with the playful banter, Gavin fixates on something Nines said.

_Our retirement._

Gavin’s never thought that far ahead but that’s what’s happening: him choosing Nines and leaving his old life in Detroit was a life sentence. Not a condemnation, but a declaration. For him, this is it.

...why did it take three months for the weight of that to finally sink in? 

“Marry me.”

The words are out before Gavin can stop them.

Nines looks at him sharply, disbelief and something Gavin can’t quite name shining in his eyes. Gavin’s heart thuds loudly, so loud he can swear he hears it over the sound of the jets. Belatedly, it hits him how ridiculous all of this is: there’s no restaurant, no alcohol, no goddamn  _ring._ There’s no plan here, nothing to convey an effort was made. There’s not even the excuse of hard liquor when Nines tells Gavin he’s being a moron because, really, that’s the only way anyone whose nice clothes have now been ruined after being unceremoniously pulled into a bath should respond to such a poorly timed proposal.

But Gavin can’t regret saying the one thing he feels in that moment. That he wants the more he thinks about it.

“...you would marry me in spite of my... _shortcomings?_ ” Nines whispers.

It’s still not a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. Is this  _good?_

Gavin’s starting to panic.

“Of course I fucking would,” Gavin insists, “Nines, this is it for me. You’re _it._ It’s always goddamn terrified me—this shit between us. But I’m never fucking leaving you, not unless you leave me first.”

If all the dead bodies haven’t been enough to chase Gavin off, he really doesn’t know what would be.

“So if this is it for you, too, then marry me,” Gavin says again, “just...fucking marry me.”

Nines still has that expression on his face and the longer he looks at Gavin, the more embarrassed Gavin feels. Gavin should have known better than to think this was a good idea. One of them’s ‘dead’ and the other a wanted felon so doing something stupid like getting married isn’t the best way to lay low, even if they use their fake names. 

_He’s gonna say no,_ Gavin thinks, his chest feeling heavy. That’s why it’s taking this long to get an answer: Nines is deciding the best way to let Gavin down. 

_Of course he’d fucking say ‘no’._

“Yes.”

Gavin stares at Nines in shock.

“Yes, darling,” Nines whispers, a softness in his eyes that leaves a fluttery sensation in Gavin’ chest. He cradles Gavin’s cheek gently and Gavin can’t be sure if it’s the steam from the bath or what he’s feeling that makes everything a bit more blurry. “I’ll marry you.”

Hearing those words makes Gavin smile harder than he ever has in his life. And then he’s kissing Nines roughly, pressing his lips to his lover’s, sliding forward on Nines’ lap to close what little distance remains between them. Nines’ arms wrap firmly around him, holding him tight, deepening the kiss with a sound that’s swallowed somewhere at the back of Nines’ throat. It’s almost too fucking much for him, Gavin knows he’d be bawling his goddamn eyes out if he didn’t have Nines’ lips to occupy him. Of the many thoughts racing through Gavin’s head, the one he keeps coming back to is  _I’m kissing my fucking fiancé!_ and it’s leaving him so elated, he half expects he’ll forget to come up for air.

Unfortunately, Gavin actually does have to fucking breathe and his lungs are already fucked from years of smoking. Breaking apart, he pants gently, rests his forehead against Nines, and belatedly notes that his face feels wet. The tears of happiness haven’t stopped and Nines uses his thumb to wipe them away, though Gavin sees some of Nines’ own dripping down his chin. So Gavin kisses them away, drags his lips over the smooth skin of Nines’ cheek and back to his mouth. The light chuckle Nines releases leaves both of them exchanging a ridiculous smile.

“Fuck, I love you,” Gavin whispers, no longer fearing those words. 

Not after everything both of them have sacrificed to get to where they are.

“I love you, too, my darling,” Nines whispers back, the soft smile he’s wearing the warmest Gavin’s ever seen grace his lips. Gavin will never get enough of that pet name. “Though, it does beg the question: will I be Conrad Stevens or do you wish to be Dexter Cain?”

“Whoever the fuck you want me to be, babe,” Gavin answers in a sultry tone. But he’s always been awkward at seduction and it only makes Nines huff in amusement. “We’ll work out the fucking deets some other time.”

He glances hesitantly at Nines’ wet shirt and then gives it a tug. With an exaggerated sigh, Nines helps him remove it. “I suppose I am somewhat overdressed.”

“...you’re still wearing all your goddamn clothes...”

The shirt makes a wet squelching sound as it hits the floor. “And whose fault is  _that_ ?”

“Hey, you could have goddamn stopped me! Sure, I can lift you but I’ve got nothing on your Terminator arm.”

“It is _not_ a Terminator arm,” Nines declares, with mock irritation. “It is a _prosthetic._ ”

“...You think you can get one of those assholes from Meditechniq to make it shoot laser beams, just like Iron Man?”

Nines glares at him, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the bathtub. The bubbling water makes it difficult for Gavin to drink in all of Nines’ bare torso, the ever-present bullet dangling from Nines’ neck. But his gaze doesn’t stop there, Gavin’s eyes straying to the hard lines of muscle he doesn’t nearly get to see enough of. Nines only strips down completely when they bathe together, too ashamed of the burns on his left side to sleep shirtless. Nines has let Gavin wash his back twice before but the moment Gavin’s hands had lingered over Nines’ muscles, Nines stiffly moved to the opposite end of the bath and made some excuse about finishing up. The clear rejection made Gavin slip into an uncomfortable silence every time. So even now as he aches to run his fingers over Nines’ flesh, Gavin moves off of Nines’ lap before the temptation becomes too great.

“You should eat,” Nines says, glancing pointedly at the food he’d brought.

Gavin’s stomach growls and that kills any retort he had about not being hungry. He pops one of the canapes in his mouth as Nines removes his pants, trying to stop his eyes from darting over to steal glances of Nines’ toned backside. But fuck he can’t help it and his yearning for Nines makes him feel even worse.

Guiltily, he forces his eyes to remain on the plate of food as he chews on another canape.

“You want me,” Nines whispers and Gavin visibly jumps. Nines is as close as he can be to Gavin without actually pressing into his backside. Gavin didn’t even hear him move through the water, the sneaky fuck. “I can detect your desire and it is rather _distracting._ ”

An arm curls around Gavin’s waist, pulling him against Nines’ chest. Gavin stifles a sound of surprise as Nines’ lips begin their assault on his neck: teasing and biting, nipping hard enough to leave little marks. Gavin swallows the last of the food in his mouth, cranes his neck to give Nines more access. This part has never been difficult: Nines touches Gavin as he pleases and Gavin never denies him. 

The reverse? Well, that’s an entirely different story.

“Babe,” Gavin whimpers, instinctively trying to grind back on Nines. But Nines’ hips conveniently shift to keep him from doing so. Instead, Nines bites down hard on the flesh he’s teasing and Gavin cries out, his voice cracking into a moan. Lapping at the bite, Nines’ prosthetic hand slides lower down Gavin’s abdomen.

“We should move this to the bedroom,” Nines whispers, huskily. He grasps the base of Gavin’s cock, his firm grip causing Gavin to weakly thrust in his hand. The warmth of his breath on Gavin’s ear and the heat of the water on Gavin’s skin is making him so goddamn lightheaded, he can barely think a coherent thought. All he knows is that he wants—needs _more._ It’s been too long—more than a week—since Nines last touched Gavin like this and Gavin’s fucking parched. 

Nines releases Gavin and moves to the opposite end of the bath. Gavin glances over his shoulder at the smirking asshole.

“Unless you need more time in here?”

Without waiting for Gavin to respond, Nines steps purposefully out of the bath, throwing on his robe as he saunters out of the room. Gavin’s eyes are glued to him, the only time Gavin ever likes watching Nines walk away is when it’s accompanied with an invitation to follow.

Sexy fucker.

Shoveling two more of the canape into his mouth, Gavin then drains the bath and gets out. He hastily dries himself with one of the towels, wincing as the fabric scrapes against his reddened skin. A quick look in the mirror and he sees the extent of the damage his scrubbing did. Yeah, maybe it’s better to give a hard pass on going undercover if dealing with rapey pricks is gonna fuck him up this bad. 

Setting aside his discomfort, he heads towards the bedroom. The room’s chilly, the sheer layer of the curtains billowing in the breeze. The balcony door’s open and Gavin guesses that Nines must have stepped out for a cigarette. Dropping his towel on the floor—and ignoring that voice in his head reminding him Nines  _hates_ when he does that—Gavin approaches the balcony.

“Getting colder,” a voice whispers.

Gavin turns hastily, scanning the room. It’s pitch black in here and while Gavin’s still getting used to navigating in the dark, he struggles to make out the shapes in the room. He takes three steps to the left and is answered with a sound of disapproval.

“C’mon, Nines: stop fucking around.”

Gavin’s foot hits the leg of the bed and he swears under his breath. It hurts but not nearly as bad as his aching cock. Leave it to his asshole fiancé to get him this goddamn worked up and toy with him like it’s all just a game.

Maybe it is.

Gavin’s breath catches in his throat as something cold and sharp presses to his neck. His heart pounding wildly, he offers no resistance as he feels those steady exhales against his ear. Nines’ warm chuckle elicits not only that heat that’s been stirring inside Gavin for the better part of 30 minutes but also the wild thought,  _what if he slits my throat?_

The only thing keeping him from having a full blown panic attack is the knowledge that Gavin, like Connor—though Nines has made it clear to  **never** speak that name around him for whatever fucking reason—are on the limited list of people Nines would never turn his violence against. It’s a more exclusive club than the goddamn Monaco Yacht Club and Gavin has to admit he’s loving the fucking perks of being Nines’ obsession.

“You should never stand with your back exposed,” Nines warns. 

Scratch that: he loves the perks when they don’t involve a knife at his throat and a fucking lecture.

Nines angles the weapon so the tip of the butterfly knife caresses Gavin’s Adam’s apple, his tone becoming playful as he asks, “Have I taught you nothing?”

The edge of the blade lightly trails over Gavin’s skin as Nines drags it down Gavin’s chest. With Nines pressing into Gavin’s back, Gavin can feel the thin fabric of one of his fitted Henley’s. Predictably, the minutes between Nines leaving the bathroom and Gavin seeking him out, Nines covered up to hide his burns. It’s far more upsetting than what would appear to be an assault with a weapon for anyone who doesn’t know them. But the thrill of the knife as it dances over his abdomen is only making Gavin’s dick throb harder.

“I could hurt you,” Nines whispers, stopping the blade. He presses it more insistently on the lower right side of Gavin’s abdomen. “Are you not afraid?”

“Maybe I want you to,” Gavin says, his voice a low growl. He turns his head and nips the side of Nines’ jaw, grinding back against him. A surprised gasp spills from Nines’ lips, the knife falling from his hands. Gavin, luckily, needs only to move further back against him to avoid getting stabbed, confirming what he suspected.

Nines is half hard.

“Babe,” Gavin moans, grinding more insistently. Fuck, Gavin can’t remember when Nines was this hard and the more he feels it, the more he’s reminded how starved he is for Nines’ dick. And if Gavin can work him up a bit, well...

Using Nines’ bewilderment to his advantage, Gavin turns and pushes Nines back against the dresser. Crushing his lips to his lover’s, Gavin rubs his thigh against Nines’ cock. Nines breaks the kiss before Gavin can deepen it, dropping his head to Gavin’s shoulder as he gently pants. So Gavin occupies his lips by suckling on the pale skin on Nines’ neck, all the while rocking against him.

“G-Gavin.”

The name breaks into a tiny whine.

“That’s it, babe,” Gavin groans, “fucking tell me what you want.”

Gavin places a hand on either side of Nines, pinning him to the dresser. 

“G-Gavin,” Nines utters again, his voice cracking. A plea.

One of Gavin’s hands slips beneath Nines’ shirt and he slides it up, over Nines’ abdomen. Nines’ skin is hot, only the hint of dampness still clinging to the hard lines of his abs. A sudden longing makes Gavin greedy and he trails his hand up Nines’ side. As his fingers touch the burn-damaged flesh, Nines visibly tenses. 

“G-Gavin...Gavin, stop!”

The warning comes too late as Nines viciously pushes Gavin off of him with his right arm. The force of it is almost enough to knock him off his feet. Stunned, Gavin can only watch as Nines pushes off the dresser to stand at his full height, sensing more than seeing the anger that must be written all over his face. Nines is trying to be imposing and for a brief second, it works.

“I did **not** give you permission to touch me,” Nines hisses. 

Guilt is the first thing that hits him because Gavin shouldn’t have to be told what makes Nines uncomfortable but he pushed anyway. He pushed because he knows he’s a selfish piece of shit and he wants to go back to before Cyberlife, before Kamski, before ever learning that Nines used him on someone else’s orders. He wants what they can never get back and it  _hurts_ that all he has left is the damage those assholes have inflicted on both of them.

This is what he gets. And he fucking  _chose_ it.

Maybe, there are some things they just  _can’t_ fix.

So, Gavin goes back to their familiar cycle: he lashes out because he doesn’t know what the fuck else to do.

Glaring, he snaps back, “Oh, so you can fuck around with a knife but I get tossed around for touching my fucking fiancé?!”

Round three.

“ _That_ was different,” Nines replies, his tone scathing. “I was merely indulging your masochism with a bit of knife play. Doing something that you find _enjoyable._ Do not blame me if my kinks fail to match up with your own.”

Being talked down to always pisses him off. But being talked down to while Nines all but tells him he hates the feel of Gavin’s hands on him?

Yeah, that fucking stings.

“You’re really fucking saying you don’t get anything out of me touching you?” Gavin demands, the hurt so palpable, even uttering the accusation makes his throat feel hoarse. “Why the fuck do you wanna marry me if I fucking disgust you so much?”

“That is not—you would not understand!”

With a sigh of frustration, Nines falls back against the dresser. Gavin can’t see his expression but he can tell from his posture that Nines is upset and this time, storming out is not gonna solve anything. There won’t be someone coming around later, seducing their partner instead of having that long-neglected discussion. There will be no burying of the things they should be saying as Nines buries himself deep in Gavin. Funny, how when sex is removed from the equation, they actually need to talk about their shit.

“Then fucking explain it so I will,” Gavin says, feeling more defeated than he has in a long while. 

“It is not that I do not like your hands on me,” Nines explains. “On the contrary, I desire you so much that when I... _fail_ to respond physically, I...”

He pauses. With hesitation, he reaches out, his fingers touching Gavin’s. He doesn’t quite take his hand, maybe expecting Gavin to pull away. But Gavin doesn’t.

“I have disappointed you in so many ways already, Gavin,” Nines continues, the pain in his voice raw. Regretful. Regret, like the word ‘sorry’, is something the Nines of two years ago would have never admitted to. “Our relationship was built on manipulation. I’ve used you and lied to you when it has benefited me. I abandoned you when it was convenient and not once have I respected your choices but berated you for them. We should also not discount the number of times my actions nearly got you killed.”

Gavin could argue he is just as much to blame for all the shit they’ve been through. But his list of mistakes pale when he thinks of every shitty thing Nines has done, most of it out of self-interest. Yeah, he’s fucking crazy to keep running back to Nines but Gavin’s accept that part of himself. But though Gavin may have forgiven, he sure as hell hasn’t fucking forgotten. As Nines’ thumb presses the inside of Gavin’s wrist—against the scars—Gavin’s protests die on his tongue.

“In spite of all of that, the one way I have never been able to disappoint you is sexually,” Nines says quietly. “So, you can imagine how being...insufficient feels.”

“But I’m not disappointed!” Gavin protests, lacing his fingers through Nines’ to grip his hand tightly. “Nines—”

“If you were not so ‘disappointed’, would we be having this discussion?” Nines asks, with a shake of his head. He releases Gavin’s hand. “You chose to die with me, yet you never chose to survive and run away to Europe. I made that choice for us. You were unaware of my...deficiencies, when you agreed to start over with me. I do not blame you if you regret them, now that it has become clear that there are _things_ that are just not working.”

Jesus Christ, this is really starting to sound like a break-up conversation and Gavin’s unable to take it. He wants to argue back but all he can hear is Nines’ misery and he doesn’t know if anything he says will make a difference. 

“I know you, Gavin. I know you are stubborn and you will stay with someone, even when you are well aware there is nothing left between you. You did it with...Connor,” and Nines falters on the name, the way he’s saying it piquing Gavin’s suspicions. But his curiosity dissipates completely at Nines’ next words. “...and now, I worry that your stubbornness is the only reason you wish to marry me.”

_Nothing left between us?_

Gavin can still smell the fire, hear the sound of debris crashing as the building crumbled around them. Nines gripping him tightly and declaring he won’t let Gavin die. 

They’ve walked through goddamn fire for each other. No one does that shit for someone they don’t give a fuck about.

And that’s how Gavin knows Nines is projecting his fears and overlooking what’s right in front of him. How he’s finally let the weight of everything he’s done to Gavin settle on his shoulders and question why Gavin is still here. 

He’s not afraid of what  _is_ but what they may become.

Suddenly, Gavin knows what he has to say.

“You got it all fucking wrong, Tin Can.”

There’s no venom in Gavin’s voice; only amusement. 

Nines tilts his head quizzically at him.

“Nines...forget Connor, forget all the bullshit of Cyberlife and Kamski and answer this fucking question.” Stepping between Nines’ thighs, Gavin presses against him, releases a low growl as he grasps Nines’ hips. He can only just make out Nines’ eyes as he stares up at them in the dark and whispers, his lips ghosting against his fiancé’s, “Do you fucking want me or not?”

“Gavin, that is not the poi—”

“You gonna goddamn answer me, T1000?”

Nines huffs, always hating when Gavin uses those classic sci-fi references on him. But it’s worth risking stoking his ire as Gavin feels Nines relax against him. His voice rough with need, Nines whispers back, “Of course I want you.”

“Wanna know how _I_ know we’re not beating a dead horse?” He noses Nines’ smooth jawline, his voice thick as he utters, “All I ever fucking think about is how much I goddamn want you.” 

Nines tugs Gavin closer, no longer so self-conscious of what Gavin may or may not feel. Gavin can tell from the way Nines’ hands sit possessively on him that Nines likes what he’s hearing. 

“Fuck, I love you so goddamn much that I’ll fucking kill for you, babe,” Gavin whispers, feeling a thrill coursing through his blood as he says those words. Nines’ grip on him is bruising and there’s nothing that will ever be as satisfying as Gavin realizing just how much his blood thirst pleases Nines. “I’ll kill every one of those shit bags with a price tag on ‘em and fucking enjoy it.”

And fuck, does he mean it.

“That’s how I know you’re no Connor, or Rupert, or Niles,” Gavin continues. The displeased sound Nines makes at the mention of their names is all Gavin needs to be assured of his jealousy. _Good._ “None of those spineless fucks have what it takes to get their hands dirty. You and me? We’re fucked up. And maybe I like being a little fucked up.”

Gavin’s aching for Nines’ touch and submits when Nines hungrily kisses him, so rough that his teeth catches Gavin’s lower lip. The taste of copper has Gavin groaning into the kiss, sliding his own languidly against his lover’s because he wants to taste the abuse he lets Nines inflict on his flesh. The marks he wears are ones with pride and he wants everyone to see that he doesn’t need a ring to prove he’s claimed.

“Darling,” Nines sighs, breaking the kiss to nuzzle Gavin affectionately, “that is quite easily the most romantic, yet moronic thing you have said yet.”

“What the fuck did I say that was dumb?” Gavin demands. _Not_ pouting.

Nines pushes against Gavin’s chest, guiding him backwards towards the bed. “ _You_ may be ‘fucked up’ but I assure you I am of perfectly sound mind.”

“You a comedian now?” Gavin asks, with a chuckle.

“Darling...kindly shut up and stop ruining the moment.”

When Gavin’s legs hit the edge, Nines pushes him gently and Gavin falls back on its surface. The merino wool feels so soft on his naked back that if he wasn’t so goddamn aroused, he would have passed out as soon as he hit the mattress. Instead, he watches with hunger—and surprise—as Nines pulls off his Henley and tosses it, in a very un-Nines way, on the floor.

In the last three months since their escape, Nines has not once gotten into bed with Gavin without a shirt. 

Leaning over him, Nines bends down and licks a line across Gavin’s collar bone, eliciting a tiny shiver from his lover. The brisk air of the room nips at his skin, goosebumps forming on his arms. Gavin wants to slide his hands over Nines’ abs, up his sides, and touch him everywhere that’s been left exposed. But he knows he shouldn’t and after spending days enduring Rossi’s harassment, he understands firsthand why he must respect Nines’ boundaries. So he keeps his hands at his sides, gasps when Nines bites his right pectoral. Fuck, that better leave a mark.

“...I know you want to touch me,” Nines whispers against Gavin’s neck. 

There’s a noticeable tension in Nines’ shoulders as Gavin shifts to try and catch Nines’ gaze. With the moonlight falling across them on the bed, Gavin can actually see Nines’ face now as he lies on his left side. Maybe it’s intentional since, with exception to the damage at the edge of his collarbone, Gavin can’t see the discolored skin. 

“If you’re not into it, I’m not gonna make you,” Gavin replies. “I shouldn’t have been an asshole about it. I’ll wait as goddamn long as you need me to, just...you know shit like scars and burns never bothered me, right?”

“Your desire has never been in question. Every scan I conduct of you in my presence has confirmed that, though your body language often gives you away,” Nines says, with a small smirk. Gavin flushes. “The problem has been my own disgust at my physical imperfections. I...want to be perfect for you, Gavin.”

“You already are.”

He says it without thinking because he’s never needed to actually think about it. Sure, Nines has his long list of faults. Murder, obstruction of justice, drug dealing, identity theft, grand theft auto, breaking and entering...okay, the list is really fucking  _long._ But Gavin’s learned that he’d rather be dragged into Nines’ chaos than shield himself from it. In that, they are perfect for each other.

Nines’ expression softens, in that way it only ever does for Gavin. “You do not need to satisfy my ego.”

“What? You saying you don’t want me to tell you how fucking gorgeous you are? You’re the most arrogant prick I know,” Gavin teases.

Nines scrunches his nose at him and it’s not goddamn fair that someone with as twisted a mind as his could also be this fucking hot and adorable. Jesus Christ, it’s like someone out there decided, “How attractive can I make a murderous asshole?” and dumped him at Gavin’s feet with a note that said, “Hello, gay thoughts.”

But Gavin’s ‘gay thoughts’ take a nose dive as he asks, nervously, “You, uh...you’re not still pissed off about me not letting you get those skin grafts, are you?”

Nines falls quiet and the small frown on his lips leaves an uncomfortable feeling in Gavin’s chest. “If I am honest, I was angry with you before. More so than I let on. I may have even denied you intimacy as a way to punish you for refusing to let me undergo the operation.”

Gavin remembers how cold Nines was to him those first three days after an engineer had repaired Nines at Meditechniq. The company had offered to replace Nines’ burns with synthetic skin grafts but warned that the operation would leave him in their care for some weeks so that they could closely monitor if the skin would take. Gavin, after all the shit they had gone through with Cyberlife, had been vehemently against it to the point of of dropping an ultimatum.

“If you’re so fucking vain you wanna risk being turned into a fucking experiment _again,_ don’t fucking expect me to be waiting here when you get out!” Gavin had screamed at Nines in their hotel suite. 

He’d been an asshole about it, sure. But he had also been so fucking terrified that this time, he’d end up losing Nines for good.

So Nines didn’t go through with it, giving Gavin the cold shoulder for days and keeping as much physical space between them on the bed as he could. Some nights, falling asleep on the sofa. It wasn’t until the fourth day that Nines came around, stiffly informed Gavin that “perhaps you are  _right_ ,”—like Gavin ever being right is that fucking unbelievable—and then hugged Gavin tightly, promising him he was over it.

But it seems he hadn’t been.

“It took some time but I promise you that I do not resent you for what you said,” Nines assures him, gently brushing aside a strand of Gavin’s hair. “My vanity may have resulted in some of the questionable decisions I’ve made.” Wasn’t that the fucking understatement of the year. “Yet, you were right to be upset.”

Taking Gavin’s hand, Nines presses it against his chest. The firm muscle beneath Gavin’s palm makes his dick twitch with interest. 

“Besides,” Nines continues, with an annoyed sniff, “those hacks at Meditechniq claim that my ongoing _problem_ is psychosomatic. Clearly, if they cannot figure _that_ out, I highly doubt their experiment would have been successful.”

Leave it to Nines to deny what is obvious to both of them.

The skin at his temple pulls back to expose his LED. It bathes the side of Nines’ face in a light, yellow glow.

“...you sure this is okay?” Gavin asks, as he begins to trace the tips of his fingers lightly over Nines’ chest. It takes little to get Gavin hard when Nines lets himself be vulnerable to him. The trust Nines has shown him—when there are times Nines doesn’t even trust himself—makes Gavin want to be closer to him any way that he can.

He pushes Nines onto his back, settles down between Nines’ thighs. Nines may not be erect but his eyes have become dark pools, blown with want that Gavin knows is only for him. As Gavin slides his hand over Nines’ left collarbone and feels the healed flesh at his fingertips, Nines tenses and his LED blinks red.

Gavin stops.

“Do not stop,” Nines whispers. His eyes flit down to Gavin’s hand and back up to his eyes. “Darling, _please._ ”

Oh fuck. The asshole just had to go and say it like  _that_ , dragging out the word into a breathy whine. If Gavin’s weak for when Nines is vulnerable, he’s even weaker for the prick when he begs. Cain—whose quickly made a name for himself as one of Europe’s most deadly mercenaries—has been reduced to pleading for Gavin to touch him. Gavin doesn’t think he’s ever heard Nines sound hotter.

“Babe,” Gavin groans, rocking against Nines’ thigh. 

Nines tugs Gavin roughly by his hair, forcing their mouths together so he can sloppily kiss him. Nines’ lips are soft and eager, messy in the way they move against his, his desperation driving Gavin to deepen the kiss. He lets his hands wander along Nines’ bare torso, mapping flesh they haven’t touch in so fucking long. Nearly a year—a year since that shitty night Nines left Detroit and they fucked in Gavin’s car—and Gavin’s been without this, without  _him._ He can live without being bent over and fucked—there are other ways he can get off, by his own hand if he needs to. But the one thing he will never be able to live without is Nines.

Breaking the kiss, Gavin breathes hard to catch his breath, gazing down into Nines’ eyes. The red LED circles as he feels the lines of Nines’ firm bicep. It’s not lost on him that there’s a reason Nines spends hours every morning in their exercise room, pushing his body to its limits. If he can’t have skin that looks perfect, he’ll mold the parts of him that he can into something that is both beautiful and deadly. 

“I’ve missed your touch,” Nines admits.

The admission causes Nines to look away in embarrassment. He’s still tense and Gavin’s not sure if he’s forcing himself to be comfortable with this or simply nervous after rejecting Gavin so many times. It makes Gavin question if he should stop but he knows that Nines has never held anything back and is usually quite blunt when he doesn’t want Gavin to continue.

“I’ve missed this too, babe,” Gavin confesses, unable to keep the sadness out of his voice. He knows they need time to get back to whatever their ‘normal’ is but he never would have guessed it would be this hard. But Nines will always be worth it.

Feeling bolder, Gavin leaves a trail of kisses on Nines’ shoulder, following a path to where the burns are worst. His lips are gentle, even if he knows the skin’s healed. He takes his time in touching every inch of Nines that Nines seems to hate most.

“Sometimes, Amanda would lock me in the cell for days at a time,” Nines says. Gavin freezes. “It reminded me of when I was left in solitary for assaulting another inmate.”

Nines stopped calling her ‘mother’ some time ago, the few times she was mentioned. Gavin avoids talking about her at all, part of him almost wishing he was a machine so he could permanently delete those six months from his head. This is the first time Nines has talked about being trapped at Cyberlife.

“I was...bored without Ralph or one of the engineers to irritate me,” Gavin shouldn’t be surprised Nines won’t say ‘lonely’, “so I would reconstruct memories of you to...have someone to talk to.”

Gavin looks sharply at Nines, who is once more turned away. That easily is the saddest thing he’s ever heard. 

_Those fucking pricks,_ Gavin thinks.

And to think, he risked his ass to help some of those Cyberlife engineers escape when Nines brought the building down.

That anyone could do that to their own son fills Gavin with anger and disgust. But, even worse, he realizes how badly it must have messed up Nines. It must be weird to have Gavin try and touch him so frequently when all Nines had before were simulations inside his head.

“Maybe that is the problem,” Nines says, with a frown. “I have learned to stop ‘responding’ because for so long, you were not really there.”

There’s no malice in how he says it but Gavin feels guilty all the same. Wrapping his arms around Nines, he embraces him tightly, buries his face in the crook of Nines’ neck and simply holds him. Up until a few short months ago, Gavin was doing this nearly every night with someone who he  _thought_ was Nines while Nines didn’t have this.  _I should have fucking been there for you_ feels like an empty regret to utter, no matter how much Gavin means it. So he doesn’t say it.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Gavin declares, gripping Nines fiercely. Like Nines is the simulation and the moment this ‘memory’ stops playing, Gavin will be alone in this bed. He’d rather be buried beneath the rubble of Cyberlife. “You don’t need a goddamn simulation, Nines. I’ll be here to annoy the shit outta you whenever I feel like it.”

That earns him a small chuckle as Nines hugs him back just as tightly. Gavin finally feels him relax, a sigh falling against his neck and the LED turns blue. It’s odd but Gavin can’t remember the last time it was blue. “I know, darling. I am constantly reminded of how irritating you are. I suspect most of it is intentional.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Gavin says, smacking Nines playfully. But no matter how he tries, he can’t hide the grin on his face.

Nines smirks as he cradles Gavin’s cheek with one hand and then kisses the other, lingers to brush his nose against Gavin’s stubble. Gavin’s heart thumps at the tenderness of Nines’ touch. It’s strange that it’s both familiar and new to him, his mind drawing too many comparisons to how Niles had touched him. Niles initiated a lot of physical contact and Gavin wouldn’t be surprised if most of it was to seduce Gavin and avoid an argument. Nines, on the other hand, has been choosing to have those fights and would much rather give Gavin the silent treatment than resort to physical intimacy to distract him from what they’d been screaming about. Gavin thought it had to do with Nines’ burn damage but the more he thinks on it, the more he realizes that Nines is a stubborn enough prick that he’d rather prolong a fight by denying Gavin intimacy than indulge it and make him forget what they’d been fighting over. It’s typical Nines behavior 101 and when Niles had been trying to pacify Gavin through sex, that should have been a giant red fucking flag. 

Oh well. Gavin knows that the next time Nines is pissed and tries to fuck him instead of storm off, he’ll need to dismantle Terminator 2.0 and sell it for scrap.

“Is that what you really want, darling?” Nines whispers. His hand ghosts along Gavin’s spine, making Gavin shiver. When he rests his fingers on the curve of Gavin’s ass, Gavin swallows a sound of surprise to feel metal against his skin. “For me to ‘fuck off’?”

Those fingers slide lower, pressing between Gavin’s ass cheeks. All Gavin can do is bite back a whine when one of them circles against his hole.

Yeah. So maybe Gavin’s come around to the ‘creepy Terminator arm’ and has developed a bit of kink for being fucked open by robot fingers. Nines tried it once last month and Gavin’s been aching to feel them inside him again, even if he’s been too fucking proud to admit it. He’s pretty sure this is not what Cyberlife intended when they started making these things.

“F-Fuck,” Gavin moans, pushing back against Nines’ finger.

Nines pulls away his hand. Asshole.

“Answer me and maybe I will indulge you,” Nines demands, his voice taking on that authoritative tone Gavin loves.

“C-Course I don’t want you to ‘fuck off’,” Gavin gasps out. 

The tip of Nines’ middle finger pushes in, only just breaching him, teasing him. Fucker. “Then what is it you  _want_ , Gavin?”

Dick.

“The fuck do you think I want?”

It’s only going to prolong his suffering but Gavin can’t help it: he loves being stubborn. He grinds back against Nines’ hand but Nines merely tsks with displeasure. A few words is all it will take to satisfy him but the asshole knows Gavin’s going to give in anyway, so why not make him work for them?

“You know what I want to hear,” Nines whispers, his breath hot against Gavin’s ear.

“Fuck me,” Gavin utters, cock aching as he ruts it against Nines.

Nines huffs. “ _That_ is one request I am unable to fulfill.”

“N-No, not—you know what I mean!”

“Do I?”

Gavin glares at him. “You gonna fuck me with your goddamn robot hand or am I gonna have to do this shit myself?”

The laugh Gavin receives almost makes him slap Nines’ shoulder again. His face flushes and to hide his embarrassment, Gavin ducks his head and reaches over to retrieve the bottle of lube in the bedside table. Something that easily would have been used up after a month with Nines has only been opened once before. 

Slapping the bottle into Nines’ hand, Gavin grumbles, “Lube up and fuck me open already.”

The heated look Nines gives him makes Gavin’s mouth go dry and the blush creep lower down his neck. With a smirk, Nines flips them, Gavin being no match against the superior strength of Nines’ prosthetic even if he wanted to resist. Hovering over him, Nines drags his gaze down Gavin’s chest, his eyes stopping at Gavin’s cock and he releases a pleased sound. When his eyes flick back to Gavin’s face, the hunger Gavin sees in them causes heat to pool low in his abdomen, his dick to weep in its cry for attention. That Nines can still look at Gavin with that same insatiable lust after two years is something that not even Nines’ less responsive ‘parts’ can ruin. 

“Spread for me,” Nines demands, his voice soft yet commanding. “I want to see that tight hole of yours before I taste it.”

Fuck…

_FUCK_

Gavin swallows hard, lifts his hips slightly, and does as Nines asks. He’s grateful for the darkness of the room so it hides his red-hot face but then remembers Nines has that android vision and can probably tell how badly Gavin’s blushing. No wonder the asshole’s so smug as he kisses his way down Gavin’s chest. His teeth catch Gavin’s nipple, tugging at the dusky bud, and Gavin can only whine a breathy, “Fuck,” when Nines begins to suck on it. The sadistic prick’s taking the scenic route and won’t be satisfied until he’s marked up Gavin worse than a Jackson Pollock painting. Every inch of his flesh is simply a canvas for Nines to use and display what exactly his lips and teeth are capable of.

With red marks littering his neck and chest, Gavin all but cries in relief when Nines gives his dick a firm pump, thumb catching the dribbles of precum to smear over the tip. Gavin gives a low groan, snaps his hips up to thrust into Nines’ hand. But Nines isn’t in the mood to cater to Gavin’s impatience and after a few strokes, releases him with a sound of feigned disinterest.

Asshole. 

“Nines,” Gavin begs, dragging out his lover’s name.

Nines is the picture of innocence as he presses a feather-light kiss to Gavin’s abdomen and glances back up at him with wide, gray eyes. “Yes, darling? Is there something you need?”

_Your mouth on my dick!_ Gavin could snap in impatience. But knowing the mood Nines is in, he wouldn’t put it past the prick to go even slower if Gavin tries to bark out any orders. Sure, Nines loves  _hearing_ what Gavin wants but the asshole doesn’t like being  _told_ what to do.

“ _You_ ,” Gavin groans, canting his hips. “I f-fucking need _you_!”

His voice cracks on the last word, throat hoarse as if he’s been screaming. He could sob for how wonderful it feels when Nines finally relents his teasing, grasps the base of Gavin’s cock with his robotic hand, and swipes his tongue over the head. Gripping at the blanket, Gavin throws back his head with a gasp when Nines suckles on the sensitive flesh on the underside of the tip, slowly mouthing his way up and pulling the head of Gavin’s cock between his lips. The warmth of Nines’ mouth is so goddamn dizzying, Gavin’s half-surprised he’s still whining his fiancé’s name and not passing out in a blissed-out daze.

Popping his lips off, Nines looks far too amused at the protest Gavin makes, the ex-detective insistently trying to rock his hips up. The firm hand on them prevents that.

“Nines, c’mon,” Gavin whimpers, fighting the urge to take himself in hand and jack off. He’s so turned on, it’s beginning to fucking ache.

“In a moment, darling. There is something I promised I would do first.”

Gavin knows it’s coming but it hardly prepares him for the wet slide of Nines’ tongue against his entrance. A throaty gasp tears from his throat and Gavin throws his legs over Nines’ shoulders in a desperate attempt to force Nines closer. The breathy laugh against his hole makes Gavin shiver and he’s already got the list of complaints sitting on the edge of his tongue—fucking tease can never stay on task—but any irritation he feels towards Nines is immediately forgotten when Nines begins lapping at his hole. He doesn’t hold anything back, slurping loudly and making the most salacious sounds as he sucks on Gavin’s asshole. When his gray eyes dart up to catch Gavin’s open-mouthed stare, Gavin feels so exposed, the tips of his ears burn hot. That only makes Nines suck harder, more eager to make Gavin feel even more like some bashful virgin having his ass eaten out for the first time. Prick.

Not wanting Nines to feel as if he has the upper hand, Gavin tangles his fingers in Nines’ hair and pushes Nines’ face against his ass. But as Nines’ tongue begins to push into him, Gavin loses what little control he has. He throws his head back, arches as he feels Nines’ tongue lick inside of him, tasting the most intimate parts of him with the zeal of a thirsting wanderer stumbling upon an oasis. Even his embarrassment at those intense eyes studying him closely, gauging every one of his reactions, can’t keep Gavin from holding back how fucking amazing Nines’ tongue feels.

“F-Fuck!” Gavin groans, his voice cracking. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck! N-Nines, baby, f-fuck, oh fuck!”

His groans become whines of protests as Nines lifts his head, globs of saliva dripping off his chin. That ass-eating smirk of his has no right to look as fucking smug as it does, not when the prick’s left him hurting for more. Gavin’s legs push at Nines’ shoulders but the asshole doesn’t budge.

“Y-You gonna keep going or not, Tin Can?” Gavin demands.

His thighs quiver, cock dripping beads of precum from how worked up he is. In spite of the near-pain Gavin’s in, Nines still takes his sweet fucking time as he makes a show of slowly squirting lube onto his metallic fingers. This really is fucking torture.

“Perhaps I would like a moment to appreciate how wide you’ve spread for me,” Nines purrs, his eyes dropping to stare pointedly at Gavin’s saliva-slicked asshole and then flicking back up to meet Gavin’s own. 

Gavin’s face heats and he looks away.

“Prick,” he mumbles.

Something cold presses against his entrance and Gavin yelps out in surprise. It takes him a moment to realize it’s one of Nines’ fingers. He doesn’t remember it feeling this cold but Nines has mentioned he can regulate the prosthetic’s temperature. Gavin’s never been one for the cold but as Nines pushes his finger into him, the cool sensation makes the heat pooling in his abdomen ripple in rapid bursts, leaving him light-headed and trembling around Nines’ finger. It’s hard to have a coherent thought when all he can do is react and he does so by pushing back on Nines’ finger, aching to be filled.

“M-More,” Gavin gasps.

He arches as Nines pushes a second finger into him, ice and fire biting and burning him from the inside out. Nines is careful as he pulls out and then pushes them back in, building a steady rhythm as he begins to fuck Gavin with his fingers. The smooth surface of whatever his prosthetic is made of lacks the same friction as the synthetic skin layer often covering his fingers and they slide as easily into Gavin as a glass dildo would. It feels different—a good kind of different—and Gavin’s left writhing and moaning as he selfishly rides every sensation caused by Nines’ thrusting fingers.

“Darling,” Nines says huskily, “you look so gorgeous when you come apart like this.”

He mouths on the tip of Gavin’s cock, collecting the precum dribbling from the slit. Once he starts sucking Gavin off, sliding halfway down Gavin’s shaft, the competing sensations get to be too much for Gavin. The heat of Nines’ mouth and the coldness of his fingers have Gavin racing to the edge until he’s fighting not to teeter off it. He tugs roughly at Nines’ hair, fucks up into his mouth while also fucking back onto his fingers, and just as Gavin feels a third finger push inside of him, hitting that sweet spot that never fails to make him come undone, Gavin finally lets go.

“N-Nines! F-Fu—!”

He whites out, slamming up into Nines’ mouth and spilling down his throat. Spots dance behind his vision, wave after wave of pleasure coursing  through him, leaving him a quivering mess . Groaning unintelligibly, Gavin ruts up a few more times to empty himself, helped along by Nines eagerly sucking and swallowing all Gavin has to offer. When Gavin’s finally spent, he collapses back in a sweating, panting mess, greedily sucking air back into his lungs.  He knows if he tried to sit up, he’d pass out from how light-headed he feels. So he lays there, fights to calm his pounding heart, and waits for the feeling to pass.

He doesn’t see Nines but feels him as his fiancé withdraws his fingers, Gavin shivering. When Nines drops down beside Gavin, his hands are warm as he pulls Gavin into his arms and lazily kisses him. Gavin swallows a moan as he tastes himself on Nines’ lips, sinking into his lover’s embrace in a sudden need to press himself as physically close as he can to him. He can feel Nines smile against his mouth and when Gavin blearily opens his eyes, he sees how Nines’ eyes are shining as they gaze at him. The throbbing in Gavin’s chest makes him wonder if it’s possible for one’s heart to burst from being this happy.

“Y-You’re so fucking good to me, babe,” Gavin says, shakily. It scares him when he gets like this. He knows firsthand how fucking shitty it feels to have the one thing that makes him happy taken away from him. Because Gavin knows that someday, one of them won’t be here. And nothing is more fucking terrifying than imagining going a day without Nines. 

Nines’ expression softens and he seems at a loss what to say. So instead, he kisses him and when he pulls back, he utters his lover’s name softly. “Gavin...”

It’s enough.

Trailing a hand down Nines’ backside, Gavin lets it settle on his fiancé’s hip. With their legs tangled together, Gavin can feel Nines’ barely hard erection poking his thigh, still hidden with the underwear Nines had changed into after being pulled into the bath. Guiltily, Gavin considers if maybe the problem is  _him_ . Maybe he hasn’t been trying enough.

Toying with the band of Nines’ boxer-briefs, Gavin asks, “Hey, you want me to try and, uh…?”

Nines tenses, red visible at his temple, and Gavin freezes. This is the part where Gavin always fucks up and he expects Nines to push him away with a sneer or coldly tell Gavin he’s ‘not in the mood’. You’d think after the first time Nines got angry with him, Gavin would have learned his fucking lesson. But no, he’s always got to go and do and say the wrong fucking thing.

Bracing himself, Gavin’s surprised when Nines relaxes and instead of responding with contempt, Nines gently removes Gavin’s hand and places it on his shoulder. On top of where his skin is most damaged. Gavin’s aware of the significance of the gesture: Nines is trusting Gavin to touch him and not recoil in disgust. The revelation leaves a loud thumping in Gavin’s chest.

“Another time,” Nines promises, with a self-deprecating smile. That insecurity is something Gavin silently vows he’ll never make Nines feel again. “We can try when I am more...comfortable if it does not go as I expect.”

That answer is good enough for Gavin, who feels as if he can suddenly breathe again. 

“I will get you some water. Your throat sounds a little dry,” Nines teases.

He disentangles himself from Gavin’s arms, ignoring the protest Gavin makes. Gavin’s face is hot and he turns away from Nines as Nines hops off the bed. “Maybe don’t make me cum so fucking hard next time. Asshole.”

“Yes, I am certain it was a rather regretful experience,” Nines remarks, dryly. 

“My fucking throat regrets it!”

“And you are making the situation better by screaming at me from the other end of the room,” Nines calls from the doorway. 

Gavin glares over his shoulder and flips Nines off. Not that he’d admit it to the sexy prick but he really could use that glass of water right now.

“Darling, would you mind getting something for me from my nightstand?” Nines asks. “You will know what it is when you see it.”

Before Gavin can ask what the hell Nines means, Nines disappears down the hallway. He could always shout his question but his throat has decided it’s done with shouting for the rest of the night.

He scoots over to Nines’ side of the bed and opens the nightstand drawer. Gavin’s side is where they keep the lube, cleaning cloths, and various things they’ll use for sex, most of it still untouched. Nines’ side has one of his guns and a few of his knives.  He even keeps  some sprays, though Gavin doubts Nines would be  merciful enough to mace an intruder instead of stabbing them. As Nines puts it, “The job we do is dangerous. For the most part, if someone close to a target wishes to exact revenge, they are more likely to go after the person who commissioned the hit. However, it is not unheard of for someone in our occupation to have a price put on their head. We have to assume that anyone who breaks in intends to kill us.”

It’s a shitty way to live, if Gavin thinks about it. Like everyone’s wearing a target on their back and it’s only a matter of time before he’s the one everyone’s aiming at. But it’s also not unlike the shit Gavin went through after Murphy, where the constant looking over his shoulder kept him always on his toes. Now that Gavin’s got even more to lose, he’s not about to let some prick looking to make a profit get the jump on them.

Stopping his train of thought before it continues on to darker musings, Gavin opens the drawer and carefully rifles through it. Seeing as there are knives in there, he should do the smart thing and turn on a fucking lamp. But Gavin’s too lazy to bother and is more confused about what the hell Nines would need at this time of night. When his fingers brush a small, velvet box, Gavin’s heart stops.

_No fucking way,_ he thinks.

Sitting up on his knees, he pulls the case out. His fingers tremble as he holds it to the glow of the moonlight that falls on his side of the bed. If it’s what he thinks it is, Gavin’s left with a conflicting feeling at how he took something Nines had obviously been planning and fucked it all up with his shitty, spontaneous proposal.

He opens the box and his eyes water as he gingerly removes the platinum ring sitting inside the case. Dropping the case to the bed, he watches the glowing line in the center of the ring cycle from blue to yellow.

“I asked an engineer from Meditechniq to make that for me,” Nines says. Gavin’s eyes dart sharply to see Nines standing in the doorway, a glass of water in hand. Though Nines doesn’t look or sound nervous, Gavin can just tell he is. “Partly to replace the one I broke. But also...”

He trails off. It’s strange to see Nines act with uncertainty instead of confidence. But Gavin’s noticed him do that a lot lately. Second-guessing himself, questioning those answers that used to come so easy to him. Maybe it’s because he still blames himself for both of them nearly dying at Cyberlife. Or maybe it’s simply a side of him Gavin never got to see.

Nines comes into the room and places the glass on water on the nightstand. Then, sitting beside Gavin on the bed, he takes the ring Gavin holds in one hand and Gavin’s left hand in the other. 

“We’ve been fighting so much recently. I knew any attempts at a proposal would appear disingenuous so I was waiting until things had...settled,” Nines says, staring down at the ring he holds. Both his LED and the ring blink yellow. “But it is as you said: this is it for me, Gavin. It has been since our first night at the warehouse. I may have denied it as mere infatuation then but I see now how I miscalculated what you would come to mean to me.”

When he looks back up, Gavin can see Nines’ eyes mirroring everything Gavin knows must be shining in his own. The half-smile Nines gives him makes Gavin briefly think of the scars Nines once wore on the right side of his face. Fuck, they’ve endured a lot.

“I suppose asking is unnecessary, seeing as you beat me to it,” Nines whispers.

Gavin colors. “Y-Yeah, uh, I guess I really fucked that up, huh?”

“When you asked me, it was clear you hadn’t planned it at all,” Nines whispers, the emotion so thick in his voice, it makes his words waver. Gavin winces. Yeah, his proposal was very obviously that shitty. “It was genuine and you had not relied on romantic ambiance or nostalgia to convince me to accept. You asked because you _wanted_ to and as someone who has only ever been wanted for their body, to think anyone could want me for more than my capabilities...”

His hand shaking, Gavin tilts Nines’ chin up so he can see Nines’ eyes once more, the unshed tears making the grays of his eyes deep pools that Gavin could lose himself in. And for the moment, he does.

“I haven’t told you this but when the engineers corrected the damage to my processor, they restored a few of the memories Amanda corrupted,” Nines admits. 

“Which ones?” Gavin asks, quietly.

It had hurt to learn that there were things they shared—moments Gavin can still recall with visceral clarity—that may as well have never happened, as far as Nines was concerned. There have been a few Gavin brought up, like the one time Nines had actually fucked up dinner. He had been so pouty and put-off for the entire night as Gavin teased him and then quite reluctantly ate some instant noodle shit Gavin made for them. Gavin remembers it fondly as the one time Nines actually let Gavin cook for them. Nines, however, is still convinced Gavin’s trolling him whenever he brings it up. 

“The ones that _matter,”_ Nines says. Then, with a sniff, he adds, “Not the ridiculous claims you made of me burning the cordon bleu to the point of being inedible.”

“I never called it that! I said it was some breaded chicken shit,” Gavin argues. His eyes then narrow. “You _do_ remember! Fucking prick, you said you didn’t!”

“Forgive me if I would rather not remember that MSG, chemical-filled ramen cup you fed me.”

Nines scrunches his nose with distaste and though he’s trying to be an arrogant prick, he looks far cuter than he has any right to. It’s no different than the face he kept making as Gavin watched him skeptically eat the noodles, treating each bite like it was not only embarrassing but physically painful to swallow. Maybe Gavin’s a bit of an asshole but it had been hilarious to watch Mr. Too-fucking-good-for-Gucci eat the fifty cent shit Gavin buys at the dollar store. 

“Better than the core done blew you made,” Gavin points out, just to be a dick. Admittedly, the dish had only burned because Gavin distracted Nines and ended up on his knees with many inches of dick down his throat. But there are some details he can conveniently ‘forget’ _._

Nines flinches as if he’s been slapped. “Darling, I am not certain what it is you think you said but I assure you it was not French.”

“Bite me, asshole.”

“I believe I already have; multiple times,” Nines answers, letting his gaze drag over Gavin’s torso. Fuck, does Gavin love it when he looks at him like that. “But as lovely as you would look with more teeth marks on you, I would like to return to my point: I remember what it is I promised you when I left Detroit.”

He lifts the ring he’s holding, a somber expression on his face. Quietly, he adds, “I have failed to live up to that promise, haven’t I?”

“C’mon, Nines,” Gavin protests, refusing to let Nines feel any worse for the shit he can’t control. Sure, back before Gavin realized the extent to what had been done to Nines, Gavin had been hurt and angry and ready to scream every profane insult in Nines’ face. But he knows now that both of them were victims of Cyberlife’s fucked up experiment. “With all that shit Cyberlife did to, I wonder how the fuck you’re not drooling puddles. I’m not gonna hold you to something Amanda tried to erase from your head.”

“Be that as it may, there is something I would like to change from what I said last year,” Nines says. He lifts Gavin’s hand and holds the ring to the finger it was made for. “That is, if it would be acceptable to you.”

Eyes flooding with the emotion welling in his chest, Gavin nods, knowing his voice will crack if he tries to say the words.

“I promise you, Gavin,” Nines starts, sliding the ring on his finger, “that I will always return to you. That even if you should remove this ring in anger or declare you are through with me, I will come back to you. Because no matter how much we lie to ourselves and each other, you are as much mine as I am yours and _nothing_ will ever change that.”

With the ring sitting on his hand, Gavin watches the light cycle to red. A warm chill curls in his stomach and Gavin can’t decide if he should be more terrified by Nines’ words or more aroused by them. If he’s honest, the only thing that terrifies him is the thought of Nines breaking that promise and leaving him for good.

Gripping Gavin’s hand possessively, Nines tugs him roughly into his lap. He nips at Gavin’s neck sharply and Gavin releases a pained groan, his fingers digging into Nines’ shoulder. Kissing his way up to Gavin’s ear, Nines then adds, his voice cold, “And should this world ever try and take you from me again, I will not stop until all of it  **burns.** ”

Pulling back and staring deeply into Nines’ eyes, the fury Gavin sees swimming in them is as hot as the ice in his veins is cold from Nines’ confession. Gavin thinks of all they’ve endured together, of all the shit the world has thrown at them. Murphy, Kamski, Cyberlife. They left the two of them a bit more damaged but Gavin and Nines always found their way back to each other.

With all this sitting heavily on his mind, Gavin’s lips pull in a slow smirk. The world’s a fucked up place with very little worth protecting. So, there’s really only one response he can give:

“Good.”


	2. Can't Commit To Anything But A Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines is anxious and Gavin's determined not to let it get to him. But sometimes, even the best intentions backfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for being so patient and waiting for this. Here's the last chapter, the end. You made it! Hell, I made it and I am honestly a little shocked at how long this series ended up being XD.
> 
> Special thanks to [DeviantAlicee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeviantAlicee) for all her support and being a wonderful friend. This is for you <3
> 
> Please remember to check the updated tags before continuing, just in case. I think most of you will find that this one is a lot fluffier than the last XD
> 
> Happy reading!

The sun is warm as it streams in through the open balcony door, falling across Gavin’s resting form. Teetering in that hazy state between slumber and waking up, Gavin shivers and throws the thick comforter over his head, shielding him from both the sunlight and the bite of the morning breeze. Gavin hates the cold while Nines refuses to sleep in a room that isn’t below room temperature. Southern France is no Detroit but waking up to 49 degrees Fahrenheit every morning is something Gavin’s still not quite used to.

Rolling over, he throws an arm across Nines’ side of the bed and pouts when his hand only hits the mattress. Prick’s always getting up at the crack of dawn and this morning seems to be no exception. Would be nice if he’d at least stay in bed a bit longer and keep Gavin warm.

_I’m not getting up,_ Gavin thinks grumpily, curling up into a ball, _I ain’t fucking getting up. Fuck that. Sleep. Sleep is good._

He sniffs.

Fuck. Something smells delicious.

His stomach growls loudly.

_For fuck’s sake!_

He really should have eaten something the night before. But Rossi—rest in fucking pieces—had made sure food was absent at their table, most likely trying to get Gavin drunk enough to stop evading his advances. Fucking child-trafficking, rapey piece of shit. The only disappointing thing about finishing the job is Gavin won’t get another chance to blow the fucker’s brains out.

When his stomach whines again for food, Gavin gives up sleep, ripping off the blanket with an annoyed grunt. His eyes water from the brightness in the room, the sun already high in the sky. Nines could have at least closed the curtains but then Gavin would easily sleep through what little daylight remains.

Sitting up, he rubs tiredly at his eyes. And then he shivers. Fuck.

Stumbling towards the walk-in closet by the door, Gavin grabs the nearest pair of sweat pants he can find and slips them on. He absently notes that his rifling through all the carefully folded clothing on Nines’ “Active Wear” shelf (seriously, what the fuck does it matter _what_ Nines puts on each shelf? It’s not a fucking department store) has made the kind of mess he’ll be hearing an earful of later. Whatever. Gavin’s clothes are in the dresser at the opposite end of the room and that’s near the balcony and that’s where the cold is so if Nines is gonna get pissed at Gavin for messing up his clothes, it’s his own fucking fault for making the room so fucking cold.

Satisfied with his reasoning, Gavin gives a wide yawn and then forces himself to stop procrastinating the start of his day by taking those last few steps out of the bedroom. He blearily makes his way down the stairs, relying on the handrail to keep him from falling headfirst down to the main floor. The scent of crepes gets stronger the closer he gets to the kitchen and by the time his bare feet pad across the cool marble, he is salivating so much, he wouldn’t be shocked if drool starts dribbling off his chin.

“You are finally awake,” Nines teases.

His back is to Gavin and Gavin does a double-take that’s more successful at waking him up than mouth-watering crepes: Nines isn’t wearing a shirt. When was the last time Gavin’s seen him shirtless in the middle of the day?

“Finally?” Gavin grumbles. The sight of those hard back muscles rippling as Nines flips the crepe in the pan…

_Fuuuuuck._

Gavin’s quickly losing his appetite for food.

The ring Gavin’s wearing goes from blue to yellow and Gavin can hear the smirk Nines must be wearing as he replies, “Darling, it is almost noon.”

Okay, so maybe Gavin did oversleep.

His eyes stay glued to Nines’ back as Gavin stops behind him, pauses, and then carefully places his hands on Nines’ hips. Nines tenses ever slightly and Gavin’s almost ready to take his hands off of him but then Nines relaxes and leans back to press himself against Gavin’s chest. Encouraged, Gavin’s arms snake around Nines’ waist and he plants soft, open mouthed kisses along Nines’ shoulder, trailing his lips over the reddened flesh and to the pale skin of Nines’ neck. He mouths at one of the beauty marks at the base of Nines’ neck, his fingers drawing lazy paths over Nines’ abs. Smelling the fresh scent of soap, Gavin breathes in deeply, warmth pooling low in his belly as he catches a hint of Nines’ natural scent. He doesn’t know how in the fuck he missed it but Niles never had a scent _—_ at least, not a scent that was distinctly _his—_ and Gavin just thought it had something to do with his Cyberlife parts.

“Shoulda woken me up, babe,” Gavin murmurs, pausing to suckle at a spot on Nines’ neck. It won’t leave a mark, since Nines is almost all robot from the head up, but the soft sound Nines’ makes is more than worth the effort. “Could’ve done your workout with you.”

“As generous as your offer is, the last time I attempted to wake you so early, you very specifically said, ‘You fucking try and get me exercising before I’ve had my morning coffee and I’m sending your terminator arm to the fucking scrap yard!’.”

Gavin jumps as he hears his voice coming from Nines’ mouth, coloring as Nines glances over his shoulder and gives him a shit-eating grin. Fuck, that’s creepy.

“You then flipped me off when I offered you coffee and told me to let you ‘get some fucking sleep, you goddamn psychopath’.”

Gavin’s face gets even redder. “Wh-what?! No fucking way did I say that!”

“I have stored that memory in my data banks and can confirm that yes, darling, you _did_ ,” Nines replies, with a small chuckle. He flips the crepe onto the plate, adding it to the other two he’s cooked. Then, carrying the plate in one hand and syrup in the other, he pauses to kiss Gavin chastely on the cheek. “Do not be embarrassed, Gavin: you are rather adorable when you are grumpy.”

He carries the food to the island, setting the plate and syrup down in front of one of the bar stools.

Gavin’s eyes drift to stare at Nines’ toned ass and how the fibers of his fitted pants seem to hug those perfect curves. Then, processing what Nines said, Gavin gets flustered all over again. “F-Fuck you! I’m not goddamn adorable!”

Not at all petulantly, he drops onto the bar stool, folding his arms over his chest with a scowl. Fucking asshole’s always looking so fucking good in his fucking clothes. It makes it too fucking hard to stay annoyed with him.

“Your coffee,” Nines says, setting the mug down beside Gavin’s plate.

Gavin mumbles a ‘thanks’, rumbling sounds coming from his stomach as he sees what Nines made: the crepes have taken some getting used to, with Gavin still preferring the thick fluffiness of a good pancake. But Nines’ cooking is as fucking amazing as ever. The sliced fruit and fresh jam he’s made are arranged on the plate’s edge, with the jam scooped into a small porcelain bowl. As a finishing touch, Nines reaches around Gavin and sprinkles powdered sugar across the plate before setting the small dish aside.

“Bon appetit,” Nines murmurs, kissing Gavin’s temple.

Gavin immediately feels the loss of Nines’ body heat as Nines walks back towards the stove. But for as much as he misses it, all that’s forgotten the moment he pops a piece of the crepe into his mouth. The savory taste of it has him groaning to himself and before long, he’s forgetting all his damn table manners and shoveling crepe and fruit into his mouth. Fuck, Nines is as good in the kitchen as he is at disposing dead bodies.

“I will assume you find it satisfactory as you have already inhaled half the plate,” Nines says.

There’s an amused smirk on his lips as he leans against the island, protein shake in hand. Gavin doesn’t get how Nines can drink those every morning. He’d get bored of having the same shit every day after a week.

“At least one of us appreciates a good fucking meal,” Gavin says, around a mouthful of food.

Nines makes a face and takes the neglected napkin from the table. “Darling, your chin.”

Gavin slaps Nines hand away when he offers him the napkin. “Let me eat my goddamn crepes.”

“...your table etiquette is as impeccable as your bedside manner.”

“If it bothers you so fucking much, wipe it off yourself.”

Just to be an asshole, Gavin tries to wipe his chin on the back of his hand but Nines stops him. With a dramatic sigh, Nines then grabs him by his chin and leans down, catching a dribble of syrup on his tongue. A hot curling in his chest has Gavin swallowing a sound at the back of his throat, his fork clattering to the plate as Nines swipes his tongue over Gavin’s lower lip and dips it inside his mouth. Gavin tries to deepen the not-quite-kiss but Nines is pulling back too quickly, with a sound of disgust.

“You know how much I _hate_ syrup,” he says, as if it’s Gavin’s fault that the moron decided to lick syrup off his chin. He goes back to leaning against the counter, sipping at his shake.

“Then next time use the damn napkin,” Gavin responds, with an eye roll.

“I am not your mother: if you cannot be bothered to use the tableware, I will _not_ do it for you,” Nines replies, with an annoyed huff. “Besides, I think my methods are just as effective.”

_Effective at getting my dick hard_ , Gavin just keeps himself from biting back.

Gavin’s been up for less than 30 minutes and already he’s tenting Nines’ sweats. He’s got zero control when Nines is strutting around with his torso exposed and lounging against surfaces like he knows he’s that fucking hot and he’s bored of being told how fucking attractive he is. The arrogance in the way he drinks his stupid protein shake shouldn’t turn Gavin on this much but all Gavin can think is how badly he wants those full lips tasting every inch of him.

“If you are done undressing me with your eyes, there is something I would like to discuss with you,” Nines teases.

Gavin’s face goes beet red and he snaps his head away, shoving a large piece of melon into his mouth. “’m not doing that!”

Nines gives him a skeptical look. Obnoxious prick. “Then I am left to conclude you find the taste of crepes arousing.”

Before he can tease Gavin further, Gavin folds a piece of crepe and jabs the fork through it, lifting the utensil to Nines’ mouth. Nines begins to protest but Gavin says, “You need to fucking eat _something_ , babe. You can’t fucking live off of blue juice all the time!”

“Gavin, this is _thirium_. I drink it every day with a protein supplement for my biocomponents.”

“Fine, drink that shit. But eat this first.”

“Gav—”

“Look, no fucking syrup. It’s all crepe.”

Looking put off, Nines finally indulges him and eats the piece of crepe. His expression hardly changes and Gavin wonders how in the fuck anyone can eat this and not think it’s as good as fucking sex. Fuck, if all Gavin gets for the rest of his life is Nines’ cooking, he’ll gladly abstain.

Swallowing, Nines gives Gavin a small frown. “Satisfied?”

Gavin takes another piece from the part of the crepe that isn’t drenched with jam and syrup. “One more.”

Nines glares but reluctantly eats it when Gavin feeds it to him. It’s annoying, sure, but while Nines is always good to sit down for a large meal at dinner, Gavin’s noticed that he eats sparingly throughout the day, if at all. Maybe he does get enough from the protein shake but Gavin would rather see Nines put food in his mouth than drink liquids all day.

Abandoning his fork, Gavin takes his cup of coffee and smirks. “Gotta make sure you’re not trying to poison me.”

“If that was the case, you should make me eat the crepe first _before_ consuming more than half the plate,” Nines replies, tsking at Gavin.

Sipping from his coffee, Gavin can moan once more for how perfect it is: just the right amount of creamer with only a hint of sugar. That hits the fucking sweet spot. “Yeah, yeah. _Leaves of three, let it be_ and all that shit.”

“Darling, that’s not—”

“So, you wanted to ask me something?”

With a sigh of mock irritation, Nines takes the mug from Gavin, ignoring the expletive he receives, and sets down both of their drinks. He then pulls Gavin into his arms and though Gavin’s body is mostly craving its daily caffeine fix, Gavin relaxes in his fiancé’s embrace.

“I have been thinking about this all morning,” Nines starts and Gavin thinks he detects a hint of nervousness. But almost as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. “We should go someplace nice today. To celebrate our engagement.”

Gavin stares at him, somewhat confused. They usually go out on the weekends anyway, mostly to the outskirts of Nice. Gavin’s always down to check out some of the markets or sit in a cafe and enjoy being out together. Nines has also taken Gavin to a few of the ritzier bars in Monaco but much like when Niles was trying to wine and dine him, Gavin can’t say he’s cared much for those places. But if that’s what Nines wants and he’s worried Gavin will reject…

“Sure, why the fuck not? We can eat snails and shit.”

Nines gives him a nonplussed look, though Gavin sees his lips quirk. “Try not to sound too enthused to be treated to fine dining. If you will not learn the language, at least learn to appreciate the local cuisine.”

“Right. Duck livers and frog legs. Can’t fucking wait.”

With a long, drawn out sigh, Nines says, “Would it pacify you if I promise to choose a place where you can order pomme frites?”

“...why the fuck would I want apples?”

When Nines gives him a withering look, Gavin chuckles. “Kidding, babe. Just wanted to annoy the shit outta you. I’ll eat whatever the fuck you want.”

Well...not whatever the fuck Nines wants. Especially if the menu includes shit Gavin thinks has no business being on a dinner plate. But if it’s fancy French food his fiancé wants…

“As enticing as you look in my sweat pants,” Nines says huskily, his hand trailing down Gavin’s back. “I think these will look better on our bedroom floor...”

“Fucking right they would,” Gavin interjects, his mind playing out all the things they can do once he’s out of them.

“...so we can get you in something nice,” Nines finishes. He gives Gavin a half smirk when Gavin glowers at him. Fucking tease. “The place I have in mind has a very specific dress code.”

Dress code?

What the fuck did Gavin agree to?

Taking one last sip of coffee, Gavin lets Nines guide him to the stairs. He can’t say he’s overly enthused about spending the afternoon in some five-star restaurant. Not if the company includes rich assholes too fucking self-important to leave a decent fucking tip to the servers. But if this is how Nines wants to celebrate, he doesn’t want to ruin it for him.

The next hour is spent getting ready, with Nines meticulously preening over every aspect of his appearance and Gavin being ordered to change out of every combination of shirt and pants he puts together. Eventually, Nines ends up dragging Gavin into the walk-in closet and pulling out the matching tuxedos they own: the James Bond ones. Or, at least, Gavin calls it the James Bond suit—which always earns him an eye roll from Nines—because the matching, hand-tailored white blazers and black pants look like something out of a Bond film.

“You more of a Daniel Craig Bond guy or a Roger Moore Bond guy?” Gavin asks as he tucks the shirt into his pants. “Cuz Daniel Craig’s Bond is hot as fuck but I feel like if you’re gonna go Bond, you gotta go classic.”

“Darling, I have no clue what you are talking about.”

“...how in the fuck have you never seen a Bond movie?!”

Nines arches a brow. “What about my personality has ever indicated to you I gain a sense of personal satisfaction from sitting through a film?”

Christ, does he got him there. The only reason Nines has made it through two films in the last month is because of his ‘problem’, though it never stopped him from distracting Gavin once or twice. Usually, though, Nines falls asleep about mid-way into a movie, an arm curled around Gavin as he spoons him from behind. It’s given Gavin a chance to catch up on movies he’s been meaning to watch and that more selfish side of him has liked their movie nights since removing the expectation of sex has meant Nines would cuddle him. It doesn’t matter that Gavin’s kept his distance when he could tell Nines felt too embarrassed to try anything: Nines would get cold in the bedroom, never quite relaxing like he does on the sofa.

After last night, Gavin hopes that will change.

“But this is James fucking Bond!” Gavin says. “If you’ve got no fucking idea who he is, can’t you use your head chip to look that shit up?”

He pokes Nines temple, where the LED is currently hidden beneath the synthetic skin. His ring, however, blinks red.

“I can, but I won’t,” Nines answers, haughtily. “I reserve that function for _useful_ infor—would you _stop?!_ ”

Nines swats Gavin’s hand away as Gavin pokes his temple once more.

Asshole.

Finishing with his bow tie, Nines begins fixing Gavin’s. They must be going some place really prissy if they’re wearing the suits Nines declared “ _only_ for the jobs requiring we blend in with higher society.” Gavin’s been silently hoping it doesn’t come to that because an evening sipping champagne with rich pricks as they scope out a target sounds more dull than that time Tina dragged him to the arboretum. Trees. Goddamn _trees_. He has fuck all to say about _that_ kind of wood. Assholes with million dollar yachts? He has even fucking less to say to them.

“Hold still a moment,” Nines all but snaps.

...are his fingers trembling?

Nah, Gavin’s gotta be imagining it.

He stands there quietly and lets Nines mutter and take his irritation out on Gavin’s uncooperative bow tie. Much like his hair, not even his goddamn clothes will listen. Gavin’s a lost fucking cause.

But Nines...fuck. Nobody should be allowed to look that fucking good in a tuxedo. It’s a perfect fit, accentuating his lean but muscular frame, the broadness of his shoulders, and the strength of those long legs Gavin’s suddenly picturing entangled in his. Fuck, they need to be getting ready and all he can think about is how soon they can get back so Gavin can peel off every one of the sexy fucker’s layers.

“Fuck, you look so handsome, babe.”

Gavin leans in to kiss Nines, only to be stopped by a finger pressed to his lips. “Save it for later.”

Gavin pouts.

But Nines is not having it. “We really need to get going, Gavin.”

Then, taking his jacket, Nines struts out. All 6’3’ of him in full swagger.

Fuck, does it only make Gavin want him more.

Nines is already outside by the time Gavin’s toeing on his dress shoes—the Oxfords Nines must have set aside for him because Nines knows Gavin still hasn’t broken them in and hates wearing them and probably would wear the scuffed ones he still hasn’t gotten around to cleaning. Seeing the Ducati keys on the key rack, Gavin grabs them and the helmets and heads out the door.

“Heads up, T1000.”

Though Gavin throws them a bit off, Nines catches the keys with his right hand. “Gavin, why do you have the helmets? We are taking the Aston.”

Oh god, the fucking Aston. Nines won’t let Gavin drive the Ducati but he’s learned to share their black Aston Martin. Every time Gavin rides in it, he feels like he’s in a goddamn Bond movie and Jesus Christ, it’s like a little piece of Heaven for his ass every time he sits on those leather-cushioned seats. Fuck, seeing Nines in his Bond suit by the Bond car is only reminding Gavin how hot his fiancé is and given his lack of impulse control, Gavin can’t stop himself from pulling out his phone and taking a pic.

For...science.

“Let’s take the Ducati,” Gavin says, pretending he isn’t receiving a death glare from the most dangerous prick in Europe.

“The Ducati will wrinkle our suits—”

“You choose the food, I choose the ride,” Gavin says, handing Nines his helmet. When Nines refuses to put it on, Gavin frowns. It’s then that he realizes his ring has been swirling red. “Nines, baby...what’s wrong?”

But even if Gavin’s trying to avoid screaming in frustration at Nines, Nines has apparently reached his limit. He shoves the helmet back in Gavin’s arms and the force of it causes Gavin to stumble back a step. The red light on his ring blinks rapidly. “Do you even need to ask? All day, you have been fucking around when all you had to do was get ready!”

Gavin stares at him as if he’s lost his fucking head. But what little patience Gavin reserves for when Nines gets like this is gone from the moment Nines starts yelling at him. Sneering, Gavin shoves the helmet back in Nines’ arms. “Maybe I wouldn’t be fucking around if you’d ease the fuck up for two fucking seconds! Fucking Christ, Nines—it’s just a fucking dinner! Who the fuck cares if a bunch of rich assholes judge us for having wrinkled fucking clothes?!”

“Maybe I want to have a perfect evening for once! Is that too much to ask of you?!”

“And maybe I want to enjoy spending time with _my fiancé!”_ Gavin snaps back. _“_ Even when he makes me go to shitty restaurants I would never fucking eat at!”

“If going out with me is such a bother, perhaps _you_ should stay home!”

Gavin wants to throw down his helmet, shout, _Maybe I should_!, and storm back into the house. The more stubborn side of him that’s always been his worst enemy and thrives in conflict will turn this into yet another week-long battle of wills as both of them test each other, see who caves and apologizes first. Fuck, it’s been 12 hours without an argument and for them, that’s an Olympic record. Why shouldn’t he be an asshole when it’s not like he wants to eat gross French food anyway?

But even if Nines matches him snarl-for-snarl, Gavin sees the hurt in Nines’ eyes, one that he used to mask so well. Gavin’s usually too hot-headed to notice the little things but since living with Nines, he’s learned what those tells are and has come to realize that Nines is just as bad for hiding his hurt behind anger as Gavin is.

So, swallowing his pride—and fuck, does it feel like he’s swallowing acid—Gavin lets go. He doesn’t bury his contempt as he’s learned that ignoring it will only make it return with the force of an atomic bomb if he holds onto it for another day. No, he lets it go, releases a shaky breath and with it, the frustration that’s been building all afternoon.

Some things are worth more than one’s pride.

“Nines,” Gavin starts, his voice soft. His fingers touch Nines’, only grazing the tips of them on his lover’s right hand. He expects Nines to snatch his hand away but to Gavin’s surprise, his ring swirls to yellow as Nines strokes his thumb against Gavin’s. The feather light touch makes Gavin’s heart pound. “I don’t wanna go to a stupid French restaurant,” Gavin continues.

Nines’ thumb stops. “Then you should—”

“Babe.”

The warning look Gavin gives him works. Instead of cutting in, Nines snaps his mouth shut, waiting for Gavin to finish.

“I don’t wanna go,” Gavin tries again, “But I’m gonna because I wanna spend time with you. Fuck, that’s all I ever wanna do. Even when you’re being a dick about it.”

Okay, so maybe Gavin is only 99% over it but there’s no venom in his voice, only amusement.

When he looks up into Nines’ eyes, he sees his lover’s expression soften. “Perhaps I should not have lost my temper. If you really do not want to go—”

“Babe,” Gavin cuts in, smirking. He takes Nines’ hand in his and laces their fingers together, “when a hot-as-sin fucker dressed like James Bond asks you out, even to eat shit you know you’re gonna hate, you gotta say yes. Them’s the rules.”

“Funny, I always took you to be a ‘rule breaker’,” Nines smirks back. “Or maybe you simply enjoy allowing me to corrupt you.”

And because Gavin’s been denied long enough, he pushes Nines back against the car, kissing him hungrily. Nines kisses him back, a feral sound rumbling in his throat, wrapping his arms around the ex-detective. It lasts for all of a minute before Nines pulls back, though even as Gavin responds with a whine of protest, Nines’ lips kiss their way along Gavin’s jaw.

“One of these days,” Nines purrs, his voice tickling the edge of Gavin’s ear, “I am going to fuck you in this car.”

And now _that’s_ all Gavin’s gonna be thinking about for the rest of the night. “I’m gonna fucking hold you to that.”

Smirking, Nines puts on the helmet. “We will take the Ducati. I suppose eating dinner with our suits a little ruffled is not the end of the world.”

Now _that_ is that Gavin would call ‘progress’. With a bit more work, he’ll see if he can get Nines to go out with mussed hair, the kind that screams _I-was-manhandled-in-the-broom-closet-and-fucking-enjoyed-it._ Let everyone in the room know it’s Gavin’s hands that have been all over him. _He’s mine, fuckers._

Gavin watches as Nines mounts the bike, his long legs straddling it with the same power as it would a lover. Fuck, does Gavin wish he was that bike.

“Conrad fucking Cain, showing up in a wrinkled suit? I’m gonna take a fucking picture to remember this.”

“You will do no such thing,” Nines warns, most likely giving him a glare beneath his helmet. “Do _not_ make me change my mind, darling.”

Shoving on his helmet, Gavin hops on the bike. He immediately wraps his arms around Nines, pressing into Nines’ back, not in the least embarrassed that Nines can tell he’s left Gavin at half-mast from that kiss. With the engine roaring to life and Nines tearing out of their driveway, Gavin should be terrified out of his fucking mind but because it’s Nines at the wheel, he knows Nines will never let him get hurt. Plus, he likes getting to hug Nines tightly, hearing the wind whistling past them as he snatches as much of his fiancé’s body heat as he can. Asshole’s turning him soft.

The road into Monacco is a familiar one and Gavin watches the sea crashing along the shoreline as he rests a hand over Nines’ heart. It beats steady, unperturbed by the speed and power of the bike while Gavin’s races a mile a minute. How Nines can face danger with the calm of a predatory beast is what makes him so effective at what they do.

After some time, however, Gavin notes that they are taking a bit of a detour. Nines slows down and turns off onto a smaller road that leads down closer to the shore. Mystified, Gavin shouts, “Where we goin?” but all Nines vaguely answers is, “We need to stop somewhere first.”

Deciding he’ll know soon enough, Gavin’s quiet the rest of the ride.

They soon pull up to a copse of trees, thick enough that it hides the sea from view. The sun’s beginning to dip low, painting the skyline in varying shades of orange to purple. The evening chill is already creeping into the air and Gavin shivers as he hops off the bike and removes his helmet.

“I will take that.”

Gavin hands his helmet to Nines and glances around. Besides a path leading through the grove, he doesn’t see much else.

“Put this on.”

Gavin stares at the black, silk cloth Nines has handed him. “A blindfold? Not sure this is the best place to get your kink on.”

Nines huffs and finishes storing the helmets. He then takes the blindfold from Gavin and ties it around Gavin’s head. “Of course, _that_ is the first place your perverse mind would wander to. And while I would be inclined to indulge you, there is something I want to show you first. A surprise.”

“...doesn’t telling me it’s a surprise ruin the surprise?”

“ _Move._ ”

Nines gently pushes Gavin and he takes two cautious steps forward. His coordination’s fucked so if Nines expects him to figure out where the fuck they’re going on his own, he’ll probably trip a few times and sprain something halfway to their destination. Luckily, Nines is aware that Gavin’s got no clue which direction to walk in and guides him with one hand on Gavin’s shoulder and the other clutching his left hand. The going’s easier after that and Gavin notes that they’re walking on a slight incline, the taste of the salt in the air heavier with each step. Soon, the ground beneath them feels smoother and finally, Nines stops him.

“You may remove that.”

Gavin unties the blindfold and when he sees where Nines has taken him, the silk material slips from his fingers. The path they took opens onto a small cliff looking over the Mediterranean Sea and he can hear the waves crashing below at its base. With the setting sun to their right, the many hues in the sky look like something out of a painting as the sea licks the edge of dusk. White flower petals—not roses, as Gavin’s learned something about the scent triggers bad memories for Nines—make a path from where they stand to a wooden arch that’s been decorated with white flowers. A few lanterns line the makeshift isle, lit though there is still enough daylight to see everything clearly. Beneath the arch stands a woman Gavin’s never seen before, dressed in a simple yet formal dress, a string quartet off to the side, and a man bearing a white cushion on which sits two rings.

Gavin’s eyes dart sharply to Nines’.

Nines’ nervousness all day. The suits. The goddamn fight over what vehicle to take.

How the fuck did Gavin miss all that?!

“You said you wanted to marry me,” Nines whispers. Those nerves are back and he seems to struggle to keep Gavin’s gaze. But then, Nines collects himself, grasps Gavin’s hand and says, “so marry me.”

Gavin doesn’t know what to say. The weight of it all hits him like a freight train. It’s too fast, too much and maybe it just shows how goddamn shitty Gavin is and how fucking impulsive he can be but when he asked Nines to marry him, he wasn’t thinking about _when_ , he just knew _some day._

Some _day_.

Gavin expected there to be more _planning,_ more _time._ But now he can’t help but ask himself who the fuck are they gonna invite? Dubois? Where the fuck are they gonna have it? Back in the States where they’re more likely to be recognized?

...why can’t _some day_ be _today?_

Suddenly, Gavin knows he’s panicking for nothing.

“Let’s do it,” Gavin whispers back, his eyes beginning to mist. Fuck, he’s not even walked down the aisle and already he’s fucking crying. “Let’s fucking get married.”

And Nines smiles, a wide-smile that looks so genuinely happy, it’s enough to make Gavin choke back a elated sob. With Gavin’s hand in his, Nines leads him down the aisle and the string quartet begins to play.

It’s the song they danced to at the night of the Blue Tie Ball. The same, fucking _song._ Not the best of memories but it’s fucking _theirs_ and if anyone wants to take it from them, they can pry it from Gavin’s cold, dead fingers.

_Jesus Christ, keep it together. Just fucking keep it together for a few fucking minutes!_

Gavin silently vows he will but it’s getting too fucking hard to when Nines is looking at him like that, when Gavin thinks of how they’d both almost lost to Nines’ rage, and when everything is not what he expected but it’s everything he _wants._

They’re getting fucking _married._

With tears of happiness slipping down his cheeks, Gavin grips Nines hands tightly as they stand facing each other on the cliff’s edge. He knows they’ll laugh about it later, about the stupid fight that almost had Gavin storming back into the villa, preparing to spend the next 24 hours in stubborn prick mode. About all the times they’ve shouted words neither of them meant, swore they were through with each other, and how both of them refused to say ‘sorry’ when the only thing keeping them apart was a moment of humility.

They may not be perfect but Nines is perfect for Gavin and Gavin’s perfect for him and that’s all they’ll ever need to be.

“Are you ready, darling?” Nines whispers.

Still so goddamn nervous. It’s kinda cute to see the arrogant prick lose a bit of his swagger.

Gavin grins through his tears, his voice full of emotion. “You gonna put a goddamn ring on it already or am I gonna join Beyonce’s Single Ladies club?”

“Remind me _why_ I chose you again?”

“Because you fucking love me, dipshit.”

“I suppose I do,” Nines says, with a soft smile on his lips.

And just to prove how much he does, he marries him.

It’s fucking perfect.

* * *

The next hour is a blur for Gavin, one that he’ll barely piece together in more than a montage of moments in the years to come. Vows were exchanged—what Gavin managed to spit out, he’s already fucking forgotten—kisses were given, and at some point, he was declared Nines’ husband and he cried so hard, it took minutes for him to calm down. But when he did, the first few stars had peeked in the sky and Nines took Gavin by the hand, slowly swaying with him on that makeshift aisle as the quartet replayed the song Gavin and Nines had danced to a year and a half before. With his head on Nines’ shoulder and an arm wrapped him, Gavin had clung to Nines as if he expected his legs to give out at any moment. If Nines hadn’t been holding him so tightly, they might have.

“We can now have the dance we should have had at the ball,” Nines explained, quietly.

It was his way of apologizing for how he acted back then.

Fuck, did it only make Gavin feel even more like the luckiest man alive.

At some point, Gavin asked, “How the fuck did you do all this?” to which Nines merely shrugged and answered, “Money.”

Fair enough.

Now, Gavin’s barely got a foot in the door before Nines is roughly pressing him to the nearest surface, keys clattering to the floor as Nines’ hands impatiently tug at Gavin’s jacket. Gavin laughs, which breaks into a throaty groan when Nines grinds his thigh against Gavin’s crotch. Lips finding his, Gavin kisses Nines back with that same ravenous need that’s left both of them pawing at each other and panting each time one of them breaks to gasp for air.

Nines reaches out blindly to close the door, shutting it a bit harder than what he probably intended, and gives Gavin a grin that’s absolutely sinful. In his wind ruffled clothes and with a few strands of hair curling over his eye, he looks completely debauched as he pants against Gavin’s lips, like something out of Gavin’s wet dreams.

“How does it feel to be ‘Dexter Cain’?” Nines muses and Gavin can still feel that grin he’s wearing as he kisses along Gavin’s jaw.

Gavin sighs, tilting his head to make the path Nines is following easier. His fingers tease the hairs on the back of Nines’ neck, dipping beneath the collar of Nines’ shirt in his eagerness to feel more of Nines’ skin. They are both way too fucking overdressed for what Gavin has on his mind.

“Like I said before, babe: I’ll be whoever you goddamn want me to be,” Gavin answers. It makes no difference to him if they’re Stevens or Cains, so long as they’re together. “But I dunno, I think Richard Reed has a nice ring to it.”

Nines stops and Gavin wonders if he said something that took it too far. He’s never called him ‘Richard’. The only person he thinks had was Amanda.

When Nines pulls back, Gavin expects to get reprimanded or for Nines to do that ‘I’m annoyed but I will not tell you why’ bullshit he sometimes does that drives Gavin crazy. But instead, Gavin sees so much emotion swimming in Nines’ eyes, it’s like watching a crumbling dam strain against the flood it’s about to unleash.

How the fuck did Gavin reduce him to tears less than an hour after being married?!

“...you would have given me your name?”

Why is Nines saying it like it’s the most shocking fucking thing in the world?

Oh. Fuck.

Because, like Gavin, Nines knows the importance of a name. He knows what it’s like to be passed over and rejected by every potential parent, to be thrust into a system where he was just another face waiting for someone to give him a chance. A name meant _family_ , it meant _belonging_ to something. And sure, maybe most people would think Connor and Nines were lucky enough to be adopted by the Sterns but the moment Nines needed his family most, they abandoned him in all but name.

‘Stern’ no longer means anything to him, with even less value than ‘Cain’.

“Not like I wanna be a fucking Stern,” Gavin says, with a shrug. “And I was never gonna be a Kamski. Nah, we’d be ‘Reeds’. Fuck, we _are_ Reeds. That piece of paper might say ‘Cain’, but your dumb ass married me, so I guess that makes you Richard Nines Reed. For better or worse, babe.”

And Nines cries, tears slipping silently down his cheeks. That stone cold prick kept it together for the ceremony but of course the moment Gavin gets all mushy, he makes his husband cry. Jesus fucking Christ, they are both lost causes.

Swiping away his tears, Gavin cradles Nines’ face and kisses him softly. It takes little encouraging before that kiss gets more heated and Nines is tugging Gavin towards the stairs. Gavin’s blazer’s already been discarded—on the fucking floor!—so he makes sure to add Nines’ because the asshole’s right: Gavin is a fucking rule breaker and what better rule to break than the rule ‘no clothing on the floor’?

Gavin’s back hits the railing as they both stumble, managing to make it only a few steps up before one of them—always fucking Gavin—almost face plants on the stairs. Nines steadies him, leans in and nips at Gavin’s neck, his fingers working to undo the rest of the buttons on Gavin’s shirt. His voice rough and husky, Nines whispers, “Say it again,” and proceeds to suckle at a patch of skin he must have missed from the night before.

Gavin moans, grinding against Nines’ thigh. His mind’s processing everything so goddamn slow, he nearly forgets what Nines said. “Wh-what? Richard Nines Reed?”

Nines kisses his way up Gavin’s chin, makes it to his mouth to claim those lips already red from the amount of attention he’s given them in the last hour. It’s wet and sloppy and definitely filthy and fuck, it’s been so goddamn long since Nines has been in this kind of mood.

“If we do not hurry to our bedroom,” Nines pants against Gavin’s lips, a warning in his tone, “I’m going to fuck you on these stairs.”

And that’s when Nines grinds against him and Gavin’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s happening.

Nines is hard. And not just “On my way to Boner-ville” hard but like really, fucking _hard._

“Fuck,” Gavin gasps, kissing Nines messily and pressing their erections together.

“ _That_ is what I intend,” Nines whispers, his fingers finally undoing the last button. He peels Gavin’s shirt off his shoulders, kissing at the exposed flesh.

Impatiently, Gavin tugs Nines up the stairs with him. His shirt’s discarded, soon followed by his undershirt, and by the time they’ve reached the second floor, Gavin’s only managed to pull off Nines’ dress shirt. He makes an impatient sound as he attempts to pull Nines’ undershirt off but Nines is mouthing at Gavin’s nipple and _fuuuuuuuuck_

“Niiiiines,” Gavin complains.

It doesn’t stop him from arching against Nines, choking out a whimper as Nines nips at Gavin’s chest. Gavin’s got so many goddamn marks on him, he must look like a badly bruised fruit at this point. He’s sure the handful of people who witnessed their wedding saw all those love bites peeking above the collar of his shirt. _Property of Nines._ He should just get that shit tattooed to him.

“T-Take this off.”

Gavin tries to pull Nines’s undershirt, getting it over his husband’s abs. But then he aborts the attempt as Nines laves Gavin’s right nipple with his tongue. The asshole’s so damn distracting, nobody’s gonna be getting naked if he keeps this up.

“C-Come on, Nines,” Gavin begs.

“Always so impatient,” Nines says, with a breathy laugh. Smirking, he takes a step back and Gavin would bemoan the loss of Nines’ body heat if his eyes weren’t drinking in how fluidly Nines peels his shirt off. Those rock solid muscles follow the slight arc of his back, his abs rolling with the motion, all hard lines sculpted to perfection. It’s got to be intentional because the sexy fucker winks at him as the material slides over his pectorals before he throws the shirt off over his head. It should be fucking illegal for anyone to look that hot taking off a shirt as all it serves to remind Gavin of is how badly he’s been thirsting for it.

“Fuck, I want you,” Gavin utters, barely realizing he’s saying the one thought he’s stuck on.

Nines’ smirk falters ever slightly and it’s those goddamn nerves Gavin wishes he didn’t have because Nines has nothing to be nervous about. Gavin sees all his scars and healed burns and it only makes him want Nines _more_ because every one of them—from the mark left from the bullet Gavin pulled from Nines’ pectoral to the discolored skin on Nines’ shoulder—all of it means _something._ It’s their history, their story, and Gavin would never change it.

Nines must be able to tell how badly Gavin’s aching for him because his grin then becomes cocky. He hooks his fingers in Gavin’s pants and pulls him toward the bedroom.

“We need to rid you of these first,” he whispers huskily.

As his fingers work open Gavin’s pants, Gavin presses his palm to Nines’ cock. It catches Nines off guard, whose head falls to Gavin’s shoulder with a low groan. His fingers stop what they’re doing, Nines trembling as Gavin rubs him through his pants. He’s still hard, straining against the seam, and Gavin feels a hot thrill as he traces the entire length of Nines’ dick with his fingers. He wants all of it buried inside of him, wants Nines to pound him so hard he won’t be walking straight for days. But his excitement is short lived as he realizes it’s not only need that is causing Nines to tremble.

“Babe?”

He stops touching Nines, circling his arms around Nines and holding him close. Nines exhales against Gavin’s shoulder before lifting his head, the faintest of color splashed across his cheeks. He avoids Gavin’s eyes.

“Darling, I...there is nothing more that I want than to please you. However, I might not...perform well and—”

Gavin silences him with a hungry kiss. “It’s our wedding night, babe. Even if, uh, shit’s not working, there’s other stuff we can do. Maybe we can watch a Bond movie or something?”

“A Bond movie?” Nines sniffs. It instantly relaxes him, Nines extricating himself from Gavin’s embrace and wrinkling his nose. “If you would excuse me for a moment, I will put my ‘head chip’ to use and search the best divorce lawyer in Monaco.”

“Search the best pizza place while you’re at it,” Gavin smirks. “American style, not whatever the fuck Europe calls ‘pizza’. Gonna eat me a lot of pies while I’m taking you to court for every god damn cent you’re worth.”

“Oh, so this is how you intend for things to be?” Nines teases. He unbuckles his pants, sliding them down his hips and the fucker’s distracting Gavin again, whose eyes are now glued to his firm ass.

“That’s right,” Gavin says, his throat thick. “I’m going full spiteful trophy wife on your ass,” that firm, tight ass that really has no business being covered, “shoulda made me sign a prenup.”

“I will consider that the _next time_ I marry.”

_You better not fucking try and marry anyone else!_ Gavin thinks. He gazes possessively at Nines, who is now standing in the middle of the bedroom, clad in only his underwear. Gavin’s going to have to correct that.

“You really think there’s gonna be a next time?” Gavin asks, sauntering over to his husband.

Nines stares heatedly at Gavin, a playful half-smirk on his lips. “That depends. With all this talk of horrid films you will make me endure for the rest of our lives, you will need to provide some incentive for me to stay.”

He tries to kiss Gavin, who easily maneuvers away from the attempt, chuckling. “You want some fucking incentive? How’s this?”

Gavin drops to his knees, mouths at Nines through the cotton material. A throaty groan rips from Nines’ parted lips and his fingers tangle in Gavin’s hair to hold his head in place. Not that Gavin has any intention of moving from where he’s crouched, not until he’s taken all nine inches of him. It’s been months since he’s choked on cock and he can definitely use a refresher.

Kissing the skin above the seam of Nines’ boxer-briefs, Gavin’s eyes dart up, his fingers curling into the elastic band. It would be easy to tug them down but he needs to know this is okay, recalls far too many fights that started because of Nines’ trepidation when it came to intimacy. Gavin’s ready to do anything for him but only if Nines is willing.

“Can I keep going, babe?”

Though Gavin can tell Nines is nervous, Nines refuses to let it show on his face. “Darling, if you stop now, I may just go forward with that divorce threat.”

Smirking, Gavin pulls Nines’ underwear down, his tongue unconsciously wetting his lips as he unveils the long, thick dick Nines has been discreetly packing. Even when flaccid, Nines is still carrying more than enough to make the most confident prick develop a goddamn complex. Gavin was never hung up on size before but from the first time Nines bent him over that table and fucked his brains out, it ruined everyone else for him. Now that he’s got Nines hard and aching in front on him, Gavin’s reminded of how much he’s missed having his throat and ass rawed by that monster cock.

“Guess I better earn my goddamn keep,” Gavin says, with a chuckle. He grasps Nines’ cock, feels his husband shudder, and then swipes his tongue across the head, catching a bead of precum. Nines’ finger tug so hard at Gavin’s hair, he’d be surprised if he didn’t pull any of them out, but Gavin barely registers the sting of it as he swallows the hint of bitterness on his tongue. Niles never had a taste so Gavin now feels stupid expecting Nines would be the same.

Fuck. It was there, another sign he missed. Gavin really is a fucking idiot.

But there’s only so much Gavin can do about the guilt. The matching bands him and Nines wear are all he needs to remind him that he is exactly where he should be: on his knees and sucking off the last man he vowed he’ll ever love. And that’s one promise he knows Nines will keep, too.

“Fuck, you taste good,” Gavin groans, lapping to catch another drop as it trickles from the slit.

He swirls his tongue over the head, mouths his way down the shaft and then slides his tongue back up the length of it, treating every inch of Nines with the reverence of someone who knows good cock when he’s tasting it. Suckling on the head, Gavin darts his eyes up, ensures Nines is watching every moment of this, and then slowly takes the rest of Nines between his lips.

“G-Gavin,” Nines moans, only just stopping himself from bucking, as Gavin draws him further into his mouth.

The hands in his hair are trembling, Nines’ thighs quivering as Gavin grips one of them to help guide his head. He’s only made it halfway along the shaft and pumps his fist a few times at the base, dribbles of saliva coating his chin as he forces his jaw to relax. Even from what he’s taken, it goddamn burns but Gavin won’t be satisfied until Nines is hitting the back of his throat. He removes his fist and slowly eases his mouth down the rest of the way, fighting his gag response and burying his nose in the dark hairs curling around the base of Nines’ cock. He moans as he breathes Nines’ scent deeply, the smell of him even more intoxicating now that he’s aware he’s been so long without it. Once he feels comfortable, he begins to deep-throat Nines, his throat flaring each time Nines’ cock fills that narrow passage. With little coaxing, Nines snaps his hips, holding Gavin’s head steady as he slowly fucks his throat.

_That’s it, babe,_ Gavin thinks, breathing hard through his nose. Fuck, his throat already feels raw and they’ve only just started.

Nines grip on Gavin’s hair is painful as he loses what little control he has, rolling his hips to bury himself deep each time he shoves Gavin’s face back between his thighs. His balls slap against Gavin’s chin, each jab of his cock leaving a stinging sensation that Gavin can’t get enough of and a moan echoes in Gavin’s throat, encouraging Nines to keep going.

“D-Darling, you cannot fathom how wonderful your mouth f-feels,” Nines gasps out, tugging sharply at Gavin’s hair.

Gavin’s being face-fucked so hard, it sounds like he’s choking. But even if he couldn’t handle the discomfort, Gavin _wants_ Nines to use him like to this, to reclaim something he was denied for so long. Fuck, Gavin’s not unselfish—he fucking wants to taste Nines’ hot cum drizzling down the back of his throat. That ache he’s had for months explodes tenfold as he senses Nines is ready to blow his load and as Nines rams into Gavin’s mouth, Gavin grips Nines’ thighs tightly and contracts his throat, making his throat spasm.

“G-Gavin...Gavin s-stop!”

Gavin releases Nines immediately, who pushes Gavin off his dick and falls back a few steps, seating himself on the cushioned bench in front of the bed. Nines pants heavily, seems to be in physical pain as he ignores his saliva-slicked dick, but even that doesn’t diminish the heat of his gaze as he stares down at Gavin still kneeling on the floor. It’s Death upon his throne and Gavin’s but a servant supplicating himself to the whims of his chaos.

“Stand up.”

There’s no hesitation.

Gavin fucking stands.

“R-Remove those.”

Gavin does as he’s ordered, trying not to whine as he peels away the last of his layers and exposes his dick to the coolness of the room. A furtive glance at Nines has heat splashing across Gavin’s cheeks as he sees how intently Nines is studying him.

“I w-want you on the bed...on all fours, facing away from me,” Nines tells him, fighting to steady his voice, “so that I may watch you fuck yourself open.”

Gavin nods, his throat so dry, he couldn’t answer even if Nines demanded it. The hunger in Nines’ expression makes Gavin’s stomach do a delicious flip as he approaches the bed, that desire to please wishing for verbal affirmation that Nines approves as Gavin prostrates himself. Fuck, he’s missed this.

“Darling, bend forward and spread wider.”

The sound of approval Nines makes is worth the sudden bashfulness Gavin feels at shoving his ass right in his husband’s face. But Gavin has little time to reflect on it as he gasps out unexpectedly, feels the thick, viscous lube Nines squeezes from the bottle dribble over his pucker. Nines must have grabbed the bottle Gavin tossed on the bench last night. Christ, that shit’s cold.

“...well? What _exactly_ are you waiting for?”

Nines’ impatient tone has Gavin sliding a finger up his crack, his face hot as he collects the lube with his fingertip. He circles it over his hole and then, carefully, pushes his finger inside with a breathy, “ _fuck_ ”. All he’s had are fingers in so long and though his are thicker than Nines’, he knows they have nothing on what Nines is going to be sticking in him. Still, he takes his time pushing down to the last knuckle, pulls out, and then thrusts his finger back in.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers, building a steady rhythm.

He feels exposed and on display, as if he’s some whore Nines has paid to put on a private show for him. And fuck is Gavin going to give him just that, as he rocks back on his finger with a small gasp. But it’s not nearly enough, the sensation dulled as his body yearns for something thicker to satisfy him. So he adds another, fucks it inside of him with less care than the first, all but mewling into the blankets.

“Keep going,” Nines orders, his tone just the right balance of harsh and thick with need, causing Gavin to shiver. “You are not nearly ready.”

A slap across his left cheek has Gavin crying out into the mattress. He moves his fingers faster, brushing them against that sweet spot, and it feels so wonderful, his knees nearly give out. But Nines never ordered him to cum and Gavin has to resist pushing himself over the edge, even if his balls ache in pain from being denied sweet release. He scissors his fingers, stretches against the resistance bearing down on them, and then adds a third. There’s not nearly enough lube and the friction makes him wince but it’s not entirely unpleasant.

“You look so lovely when you touch yourself like this,” Nines whispers, wantonly. He reaches around to give Gavin’s cock a gentle stroke and Gavin utters a breathless cry. He stops pumping his fingers inside himself, begins to rut into Nines’ hand, but then Nines is pulling his hand away and with it, that friction Gavin craves. “I did not say you can stop.”

The harshness of his tone leaves Gavin shivering. So he keeps going, pushing inside viciously until all three are buried to the knuckles, rewarded with a half-groan as Nines watches. Once Gavin’s confident that he can handle what’s to come next, he withdraws his fingers with a low shudder.

“Kay, babe, I think I’m ready for your di—”

Gavin yelps as he flipped onto his back, Nines pinning him to the bed. Soft, eager lips kiss his and Nines holds nothing back as he slides their cocks together, a gasp cutting in the space between them. Lips a whisper away from Gavin’s ear, Nines utters, possessively, “ _I_ will decide when you are ready.”

... _fuck!_

Nines looks down at Gavin with his pupils blown wide, his eyes dragging down Gavin’s torso, seeming to study every mark his lips have left in the last 24 hours. An artist admiring his handiwork. From their entwined fingers, Gavin feels the skin peel back on Nines’ hand, and he absently wonders if it’s because of what Nines said about it last month.

“The synthetic skin is like a glove covering my hand,” Nines had explained, “it diminishes the sensation. Not significantly but enough that I notice.”

Maybe that’s why Nines has taken to touching Gavin without the obstruction of the fake skin, now that Gavin’s made it clear he’s not bothered by it. He’s not just touching him but really _touching_ him. The thought makes Gavin’s chest warm and fluttery.

A sharp nip at the crook of Gavin’s neck brings him back to what’s going on and Gavin releases a startled cry, canting his hips to brush his dick against Nines’. Nines shudders, lets go of Gavin’s hand, and runs his metallic palm down Gavin’s chest. Cold, metal fingers tease Gavin’s opening but instead of pushing in, they retreat.

“We need more lube,” Nines mutters, sitting back on his knees.

Gavin swipes the discarded bottle before Nines can reach it, flailing none-too-gracefully towards the edge of the bed. Nines cocks a brow, bemused smirk on his lips but any entertainment he’s getting at Gavin’s expense is forgotten when Gavin squirts a generous amount into his palm. He takes Nines in hand, stroking him a few times, watching as Nines’ pretty eyes flutter shut and he bites back a moan. Fucking gorgeous.

“How do you want me, babe?” Gavin whispers.

The hand not covered in lube grabs Nines’ right wrist, brings the hand to Gavin’s mouth. Taking Nines’ index finger between his lips, Gavin swirls his tongue around the metal tip before gently suckling on it. Nines’ eyes open, deep pools of lust that transfix their heated gaze on Gavin’s mouth. The skin peels away at Nines’ temple and his LED flares red.

“Lie down.”

The command is soft but Gavin yields without question, lying back on one his pillows with his legs lifted off the mattress. Taking one of his own pillows, Nines props it underneath Gavin before sinking down between Gavin’s thighs. Warm hands slide up Gavin’s sides, touching him with a level of care and devotion Gavin’s never witnessed Nines show anyone else. _Mine_ are what his hands and lips declare as Nines kisses along Gavin’s collarbone, positioning himself at Gavin’s entrance. When he stares at Gavin with those intense eyes, the gray irises thinned until they have all but disappeared, the lust reflecting in them seem out of place with the nervous frown on Nines’ lips.

_Who gives a shit how good it is_ , Gavin wishes he could say, _I just want_ _ **you**_ _._

But it’s easy when Gavin’s not gone nearly a year with an unresponsive dick.

So Gavin takes his husband’s face in his hands and utters words he swears to fucking God would have him dying from the embarrassment of revealing what a real fucking sap he is if Nines didn’t need to hear them as badly as he does at that moment. “You gonna keep fucking me with your eyes, Tin Can, or you gonna make love to your goddamn husband?”

That frown becomes a smirk as Gavin’s face goes redder than a tomato. “Make love? Is that what we are doing?”

Of course the asshole picks up on it. Fuck, Gavin’s never going to hear the end of this.

“Y-Yeah, I guess we are,” Gavin says, his voice thick with emotion. He kisses Nines chastely and then utters, in a poor attempt to save face, “Fucking aching to have you inside me, babe.”

“Are you now?”

The amusement in Nines’ voice makes Gavin nearly scream in frustration. Asshole really is gonna make him beg for it after he put himself out there with the ‘love-making’ comment?

“Don’t care what you fucking put in me, just...fuck,” Gavin moans, “just fucking put _something_ in me!”

“I believe I have just the _thing_ ,” Nines teases, with a breathy chuckle.

He begins to push, breaching the first tight ring with a gentle shudder. The burn of it is more uncomfortable than Gavin wants to admit but it’s not as if he’s been shoving anything else in there thick enough to match Nines’ dick. He makes himself relax, frustrated that it’s like his first time with Nines all over again but it’s also comforting in some ways: he’s gone so long without android dick, it’s as if the physical impact of that sham of a relationship has been wiped clean from his flesh. Gavin belongs **only** to Nines and that’s how it should have always been.

“You are uncomfortable,” Nines says.

His LED blinks red at his temple.

Gavin pushes on Nines’ thighs with his ankles but Nines won’t move. “C-C’mon, Nines. I can take it.”

Nines’ LED doesn’t stop blinking, matching the ring on Gavin’s left hand. The frown is back but now, it’s for a different reason. “We will take this slow and give you time to...adjust.”

“I’ve had your dick how many times before? You’re not gonna goddamn break me.”

“Gavin,” Nines says, each syllable thick with need. Nines pushes in a little bit more, Gavin keening at the sensation, and then pauses. When Gavin opens his mouth to protest, Nines interrupts, “Perhaps you are not the _only_ one who needs a moment.”

...oh.

Yeah, definitely wouldn’t want _that_ happening when Nines is barely halfway in.

So Gavin’s patient, wrapping his arms around Nines as Nines carefully eases the rest of the way in. Once his balls hit Gavin’s ass cheeks, Nines releases a small moan, burying his face in the crook of Gavin’s neck. Gavin holds him close, the snail-pace Nines has set easing his discomfort until all Gavin feels is a sense of satisfaction at being this filled. In spite of what Gavin’s willing to give up to be with Nines, this is definitely something he’s _missed._

“I’ve missed being with you like this,” Nines whispers, unknowingly stating the one thought running through Gavin’s head. Gavin’s not even sure if he was supposed to hear that with how quietly the words were pressed to his skin.

Nines lifts his head, his watery gaze saying more than words could in the look they exchange. Words would only cheapen their connection, this feeling of completion Gavin’s been without since Nines left Detroit. So instead of saying anything, Gavin kisses Nines, a soft moan breaking the air between them when Nines pulls out and thrusts gently into him. Nines shivers, presses his forehead to Gavin’s, and pauses once again.

“Darling,” he starts and Gavin can already detect that note of guilt, “I...don’t believe I can do this for very long.”

But Gavin doesn’t care if it’s 1 minute or 1 hour. All he wants is to enjoy this moment with Nines.

“We’ve got the rest of our fucking lives to keep practicing,” Gavin responds, with a small smirk.

“Yes, we do,” Nines says, pulling out and pushing back in deep. The moan he releases matches Gavin’s, who stares deep into Nines eyes as Nines builds a steady pace. For each thrust, Gavin rocks back on Nines’ cock to pull Nines as deep inside as he can, gripping Nines’ prosthetic hand in his. He can feel Nines’ wedding band and the reminder of what they are to each other has tears clouding his vision.

_Husbands._

It’s something he hopes never loses its significance.

“Nines, baby,” Gavin groans, scraping his nails across Nines’ back. More marks, more proof of what’s _his._ He’ll mark all of Nines’ flesh with bites and scars if he needs to, so the Marcels of the world know what to keep their fucking hands off of. “F-Fuck, you feel good.”

Gavin can’t quite explain it but it’s more than the soured memories of Niles’ deception. Something about the way Nines pounds into him, nips at the skin of his neck, utters his name with reckless abandon...all of it feels familiar yet spontaneous. Not like with Niles, when Gavin could predict every thrust, every kiss to the point where he could script an entire night of fucking before it actually happens. Niles _knew_ what to do because it was as if he cracked a foolproof formula to making Gavin come undone. But Nines...Nines just _knows._

“Gavin,” Nines gasps against Gavin’s lips, “I...I’m going to...”

He slams against Gavin’s prostate and Gavin quivers at how fucking good it feels. Nines is close—so fucking close—and Gavin’s getting there, too. So Gavin slides a hand between them, begins pumping it on his cock, throwing his head back with a deep moan.

“Nines,” Gavin groans, his husband’s name cracking on his lips, “c-cum inside me, babe. J-Just f-fucking—”

Gavin’s name tears from Nines throat as Nines rams into him hard, his body tensing. Moments later, he’s spilling hot deep inside of Gavin with a breathless shudder. Gavin makes a strangled whine as Nines drops his face to Gavin’s sweaty shoulder, rutting a few times to empty himself completely. The warmth of him cumming is all that Gavin needs to finally bring him over the edge.

Gasping his husband’s name, spots dot his vision as Gavin’s pushed over the edge. An explosion of heat rips from his core as he strokes himself, releasing threads of cum over his chest and some of it even hitting Nines’ neck. Riding the blissful wave, Gavin absently jacks himself until there’s nothing left, unwinding against the bed sheets once the last of his energy is spent. With a tired groan, Nines drops the rest of his weight on Gavin and Gavin curls his cum-slicked hand around him, his other hand squeezing Nines’. Not once did Nines let him go.

They lay there for some time, both fighting to regain their breath. Gavin’s sticky and sweaty and the longer they stay like this, the more uncomfortable it is but fuck it, Gavin’s going to hold his husband for as long as Nines goddamn needs it. God knows Gavin needs this too.

“I have not felt like this for so long.”

The words catch Gavin off guard since he isn’t expecting Nines to be the first to break the silence. Something wet trickles down Gavin’s neck and he can’t even be sure it’s his own sweat. Instead of responding, he simply holds Nines tighter.

Eventually, Nines pulls out of him and whatever vulnerability he was experiencing is gone as he wipes the cum from his neck with a low chuckle and licks his thumb clean. “I don’t recall you cumming this much, darling.”

Both their chests seem to be covered in Gavin’s jizz and he can’t help but color as he mumbles, “What? You want a 5-star review on YELP or something?”

“There is no need,” Nines says, reaching over to pull out some of the cleaning cloths from Gavin’s side table. “Should I require the ‘reminder’, I can simply extract the memory from my data banks and replay it.”

“You sure you’re not a fucking android, babe?”

“I believe the scratches you left on my back can attest to the fact that I am not,” Nines retorts, with a cocky smirk.

As Nines wipes down their chests, Gavin sits up, wincing a little at the soreness. Yeah, he’s going to be feeling that for a bit. But fuck if it doesn’t make him feel closer to Nines in a way that’s been missing for months. It’s not the sex—as great as that was—but knowing that Nines is being himself with Gavin. As Gavin rests his head on Nines’ left shoulder, he sighs and begins tracing the red lines he scraped in Nines’ back.

_Mine._

“Are you not hungry?” Nines asks, tossing the soiled cloth on the side table. He kisses the top of Gavin’s head and runs a hand down Gavin’s arm. Gavin shivers. “I can cook something for you.”

“’m tired,” Gavin says, failing to stifle a yawn.

Drawing back the blanket, Nines pulls Gavin under it with him, resting his head on the pillow Gavin was using. Gavin doesn’t mind since he’s content to use Nines’ shoulder and sleepily throws an arm across Nines’ chest. As they lay there like that, the room dark and the moonlight shining across them, Gavin’s head clouds with the early vestiges of sleep and he begins to succumb to them.

“Is there any place you would like to go for our honeymoon?” Nines whispers in Gavin’s hair. “Italy? Malta? Greece?”

Gavin barely registers the question but once it hits him what Nines is asking, he hugs Nines tightly and mumbles, sleepily, “...wanna stay here. With you.”

“Then we will do that.”

And it’s with his hand curled around the bullet Nines wears, his ear pressed to the steady beating of Nines’ heart, that Gavin is lulled to sleep.

* * *

He doesn’t sleep long, Gavin’s stomach rumbling him awake. Sprawled across their bed, the first thing Gavin notes is Nines’ absence. But Gavin doesn’t have to ponder for very long where Nines went as, not unlike this morning, the smell of something delicious and savory hits his nose. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Gavin once more retrieves one of Nines’ sweat pants and begins the daunting task of navigating his way to the bathroom. Once he’s finished up in there, phase two is the stairs. It’s annoying enough when he’s not tired as fuck but his uncoordinated ass needs to put in three times the effort to not go tumbling down them.

When he reaches the kitchen—two close calls and too many fucking minutes later—he warms at seeing Nines wearing one of Gavin’s sweats while he finishes up on the stove. Gavin’s smile widens further as he sees the plate Nines prepared for him.

“Burger and fries!” Gavin says, with a grin. “Babe, are you fucking serious? You never make me this shit!”

“Because I will not have _my husband_ dying of coronary disease at the age of 40,” Nines says, sniffing distastefully. “However, I suppose that it is our wedding night and an exception can be made.”

Gavin hugs Nines from behind, kissing the space between his husband’s shoulder blades. Nines tsks at Gavin, even pretends he’s irritated with Gavin for disrupting his cooking. But Gavin knows the prick’s just doing it to be an ass. Even in the low glow of the fairy lights decorating the kitchen, Gavin catches the hint of a blush on Nines’ cheeks.

“What’s that?” he asks around a mouthful of burger, after they’ve started eating.

“Fillet mignon. I would not expect you to like—Gavin!”

Gavin smirks as he steals the piece Nines had just cut for himself. Popping it in his mouth, Gavin chews into it and gives a low groan. “Fuck, this is good. Why didn’t you make me one?”

“You always turn your nose at everything ‘French’ I make,” Nines sniffs. “I was not about to waste good cuisine on your uncultured—Gavin! Would you stop stealing from my plate?!”

“What?” Gavin asks innocently, swallowing another piece of it. “Half of your shit’s mine. I own half that fucking plate.”

“That is _not_ how that works.”

“C’mon, I’ll share my burger with you.”

It really is a delicious fucking burger, easily the best Gavin’s ever had, and part of him regrets offering because he was really hoping he wouldn’t have to share. Oh well: fair’s fair.

“I am NOT eating that artery clogging monstrosity.”

“What the fuck? You made it!”

“That does not mean I ever intended to try it.”

“Look, I’ll be all prissy and shit and cut a piece for your fork.”

“Gavin, I am not some child in need of being spoon fed.”

“It’s not a spoon; it’s a goddamn fork. You forgetting English already, babe?”

“That is not—it’s an _expression_! Would you put down your fork?!”

“Not until you try it.”

Gavin does eventually get Nines to try it and, much to his amusement, a few of the fries he’d made, too. Nines is always eating healthy shit, like he’s afraid anything he puts in his mouth with some actual fucking flavor will ruin his toned physique. So any chance Gavin has to make Nines ease up on his diet is always one he takes.

After they finish their food and enjoy some champagne with their cigarettes on the patio, Gavin somehow convinces Nines to watch Infinity War with him, an old classic from Gavin’s childhood. At first, Nines rolls his eyes and demands to know if it’s “that one where the horribly CGI’d purple villain snaps his fingers at the end?” and Gavin smirks and says, “Hey, you know it.”

“Of course I do,” Nines replies, “it is, perhaps, the only _enjoyable_ moment in cinema—where most of the annoying characters die.”

Of course he’d fucking think that. Sadistic prick.

So that’s how they end up on the couch, Gavin slightly tipsy off the champagne they drank, with Nines spooning him from behind. Not twenty minutes into the film, Mr. I-can’t-fucking-sit-still-for-more-than-one-fucking-act-of-a-movie begins kissing the back of Gavin’s neck, sliding his hand across Gavin’s chest. Gavin opts to ignore it, determined to not let Nines ruin movie night now that he’s got his mojo back. But when the synthetic skin on Nines’ hand peels away, Gavin can’t help but shiver. Nines brushes his cold fingertips across Gavin’s pectoral, thumbing the budding nipple. The low shudder Gavin releases is all the encouragement Nines needs as he starts to suckle at Gavin’s neck.

“N-Nines,” Gavin gasps out, uttering a small cry as Nines pinches and tugs at his nipple. _Fuck!_ “W-Watch the movie.”

Hot breath falls against Gavin’s ear as Nines whispers, “It is my honeymoon, too, and I would much rather be doing something _else._ ”

He runs his hand down Gavin’s side, grasps at his hip and grinds against it. Gavin moans as he feels just how hard Nines is.

“These need to come off,” Nines says, tugging at Gavin’s sweatpants. Gavin lifts his hips so Nines can slide the sweats down his thighs and kicks them off once they’re below his knees. With the pants out of his way, Nines begins stroking Gavin’s half-filled cock. It takes little effort, with Nines rutting against him as he pumps his fist along Gavin’s shaft, before Gavin’s just as hard as Nines and aching to be fucked.

With his sweats added to the pile Gavin started on the floor, Nines presses two fingers between Gavin’s cheeks, pushing them inside. Gavin keens back onto them, groaning as Nines alternates between scissoring them and caressing them against that intimate spot deep inside of him. It’s so fucking good, Gavin’s knows it’ll be all over for him quickly if the sexy prick doesn’t stop finger fucking him soon.

“You’re still stretched,” Nines whispers huskily. He nibbles on the edge of Gavin’s ear, pulls his fingers out, and thrusts them back inside. Gavin whines. “That will make this next part easy.”

The absence of his fingers is felt immediately and Gavin grinds back on Nines, zero fucks given as one of his favorite fight scenes plays out on screen. All Gavin cares about is making up for lost time and being so filled with Nines’ jizz, he’ll be the asshole’s own personal cum-dumpster. He’s already gay trash, why not upgrade?

“Get the lube,” Nines orders, kissing a line from Gavin’s neck to his shoulder.

Gavin doesn’t need to be told twice, blindly reaching into the coffee table drawer as Nines continues to neck him. He’s glad the unopened bottle is finally being used: as experience has taught him, the shower and sofa are highly likely places where he can expect to be fucked so Gavin’s learned to always keep a bottle nearby.

Popping the bottle open, Gavin squirts some lube in his hand and reaches back to rub it over Nines’ dick. The contented sound Nines makes causes Gavin to shift his head and heat to pool low in his belly as he sees how Nines is looking at him. Not caring that he’s got lube all over his fingers, Gavin curls them in Nines’ hair and tugs his face closer, kissing him messily. The kiss is broken by a small gasp as Nines begins pushing inside Gavin.

“D-Darling,” Nines shudders, once he’s buried deep.

And once he starts moving, Gavin’s so lost in the feeling of Nines pounding into him, spooning him close and showering his skin with kisses, Gavin fucking forgets what they were even watching.

Much later, after they’ve cleaned up, Gavin lays awake, a soft smile on his lips as he listens to Nines quietly dozing behind him. Neither bothered putting their clothes back on but Gavin fetched a blanket to throw over them since Nines was too exhausted to make the trip back upstairs. Gavin can’t really blame him—Nines anxiety’s sucked so much energy from both of them that it’s left him more weary, now that he’s overcome the largest hurdle. There are still things they need to work on, sure. But in this, Gavin believes they might just be okay.

With one of Nines’ arms curled around him and his exhales falling silently on the back of Gavin’s neck, a warm sensation blooms in Gavin’s chest as he realizes they have found something Nines never thought could be theirs.

“There is no life for us out there! There never was!”

He remembers Nines screaming that at him at what Gavin thought was the end of the road for them. How, for a hot minute, he almost believed him.

_You’re wrong, babe,_ Gavin thinks, his vision clouding as he rests his right hand on top of Nines’. _There fucking is and we found it._

Nines makes a sound but doesn’t quite wake, tugging Gavin impossibly closer and lazily kissing the crook of his neck. Within moments, he’s once more sound asleep.

High on the little slice of happiness they’ve both found, Gavin changes the marathon of the reality show he was watching—something like the Big Brother series that had been popular back when he was a kid. After a minute or so, he loses hope of finding anything interesting and stops at the News. He’d never cared much for following the headlines since half the time, he was fucking living them, back when he was a detective and trying to make some dent in Detroit’s shit record for violent crimes. But, hey, it’s France, maybe there’s some fucking feel good story on escaped sheep terrorizing the country side or some shit like that?

His hopes are dashed as Chloe’s image is shown on the screen with the words Dernières Nouvelles flashing.

“—Chloé Weber a été retrouvée—”

Gavin shuts it off.

Because whatever the fuck Cyberlife’s up to, it’s not _their_ problem. Not anymore.

Placing the remote on the table, Gavin snuggles back into Nines’ embrace and lets the cares of a life he once lived slip away until it’s nothing more than a bad memory.

He’s Dexter Cain, hitman-for-hire and husband of the deadliest man in Europe, whose got more bodies in his closet than Baskin Robbins has flavors.

And Gavin wouldn’t have it any other fucking way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am at something of a loss at what to say because I have been working on this series for so long and this is the sort of place I envisioned leaving it at. While I know some of you are still interested in these characters, I think they are in the best possible place they could be, given all that's happened. It's difficult to say goodbye but I think it's about time. So, thank you for sharing in this story with me and for cheerleading or commenting or creating art. However you were involved, I truly appreciate it because I know I never would have had the motivation to stick with it for as long as I have. Thank you everyone and I hope you are staying safe where you are <3.


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